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Jennifer Barrell & 
Christopher Fusco 

Foreword by 
Professor James Plath 

lOO Years of 


at Illinois 




Through the Eyes^ 
of The Argus 

100 Years of 



at Illinois 

Wesley an c -^> 


Jennifer Barrell • Christopher Fusco 

Copyright © 1994, Illinois Wesleyan University Press, 

Illinois Wesleyan University, Bloomington, Illinois 61702-2900 

Information in this book comes largely from the original pages of The Argus, the 
student newspaper of Illinois Wesleyan University, and any sins of 
omission/commission or factual errors are attributable to the imperfect world of 
college journalism. Wherever possible, the authors have sought to corroborate 
information with university and community records. 


Just as it is impossible to record all the people, places and events that The 
Argus included in its first century of reporting Illinois Wesleyan University 
news, it is equally impossible to thank all those who have assisted us. 

James Plath sacrificed time with family, friends and his own literary journal, 
Clockwatch Review, to monitor the entire writing, re-writing, proofing and 
indexing process. Plath helped shape the focus of this book and shaped our 
development as writers, interviewers and researchers. Robert Aaron was of 
invaluable assistance with re-write and proofing "down the stretch," and Carl 
Teichman enabled us to concentrate on writing rather than financing. Gary 
Schwartz laid-out the entire book and designed the front cover, while putting up 
with our elusive copy deadlines. Christopher Baron ('95) was the student source 
of constructive criticism during the first "proof job," and Marc Featherly repro- 
duced more than 50 percent of the photographs in this book from old, yellow, 
dilapidated volumes of the newspaper. 

We also wish to thank "Hand-out" Harvey Beutner, for sharing so much 
information with us; Bernie and Kurt Gummerman, for taking time-out from a 
rough summer to give us a hand; "Coach" Jack Horenberger ('36) and Stew 
Salowitz ('76) for their help with the sports chapter; Sue Stroyan and the Sheean 
Library staff for research assistance and letting us live in the archives; Greg 
Koos and the McLean County Historical Society, for "free Tuesdays" and some 
valuable facts; Arun Khosla, Elaine Graybill and Troy Clark ('95) for research 
assistance; Dave Brown ('95), Betsy Phillips (*96), Maisa Taha ('97) and Kerry 
Podzamsky ('96) for indexing and proofing assistance; Don Raycraft for infor- 
mation on Fred Young; Ross Minion ('94) for photography and computer assis- 
tance; Judy Archer for assisting in production; The Pantagraph, for letting us 
rummage through their files; the Illinois Wesleyan University Development 
office for helping us contact alumni. 

Last, but not least, we wish to thank IWU President Minor Myers, jr., not 
only for embracing this unconventional approach to a university history, but also 
for upholding Illinois Wesleyan's free and independent press tradition. 





Chapter 1 

Before the Eyes of The Argus 


Chapter 2 

Evolution of The Argus 


Chapter 3 

Front Page News 


Chapter 4 

The Argus Goes to War 


Chapter 5 

Editorially Speaking 


Chapter 6 

A Free and Independent Press? 


Chapter 7 

Now Featuring . . . 


Chapter 8 

Argus Advertising — A Sign of the Times 


Chapter 9 



Chapter 10 



Chapter 11 

A Week with the Boar — Life in the Office 


Appendix A 

Campus Maps 


Appendix B 

Argus Editors 1894-1994 






"The eyes of Argus are upon me, 
and no slip will pass unnoticed." 
George Washington 

In Greek mythology, Argus Panoptes was an all-seeing giant with one hun- 
dred eyes covering his body. Who better to have for a watchman than one who 
could sleep with several eyes open? And, what better name to have for a news- 

Twenty-one U.S. newspapers currently fly that "flag," as do three college 
papers (including the Wesleyan Argus at Wesleyan University and The News 
Argus at Winston-Salem State University). But Illinois Wesleyan can boast of 
having the longest uninterrupted college newspaper by that name. It's also pos- 
sible that the Illinois Wesleyan newspaper was named for the short-lived 
Bloomington Argus, a city paper that began in June 1858 and ceased publication 
the following September. 

Unlike that early paper or the mythological watchman whose life was cut 
short when Hermes lulled all of his eyes to sleep, Illinois Wesleyan's Argus has 
been watching over this small midwestern campus for 100 consecutive years — a 
feat that must seem truly titanic to the staffs who thought it nothing less than a 
miracle to put one issue to bed. 

The idea for the book came, appropriately, during the Illinois College Press 
Association's annual convention. As the journalism instructor and newspaper 
adviser, every year I drive to Chicago with members of the staff for two days of 
seminars and an awards luncheon. Each crew looks forward to the convention 
because it gives them a chance to talk with fellow journalists about the bitter- 
sweet business of college newspapers — where amateurs are expected to perform 
like professionals. In packed hotel rooms they stay up way past my bedtime to 
swap stories of campus abuse heaped upon them: coverage complaints, tight- 
lipped administrators, nit-picky advisers, cranky printers, impossible deadlines, 
equipment failure, bad photos, long hours, low (or no) pay, staff feuds, funding 
problems, failing grades and worse-off love-lives. But somewhere deep inside, 
they love it. 

After the first round of seminars, we gathered at Harry Caray's Restaurant — 
a Friday night tradition — to toast each other for perseverance and a year's worth 
of work well done, when the topic turned to the upcoming centennial. Ideas 
started flying, and thoughts of a special issue soon grew to mythic proportions. 
Why not write a book chronicling 100 years of journalism at Illinois Wesleyan? 

Students worked up a proposal and presented it to President Minor Myers, 

Foreword 2 

jr., a former political science professor who became immediately excited about 
the prospect of an alternative history of the university, told from the students' 
perspective. Whether it has been done before by any other school is hard to say, 
but it seems a revolutionary concept. For as anyone who reads through this book 
will surmise, a history like this could never have been written ten years ago. 
But since I came to Illinois Wesleyan in 1988, the administration has always 
perceived the newspaper as a vital campus organ, one which, for all its faults 
and occasional inaccuracies, still serves as a common denominator, a focal point 
for students, faculty, administrators and campus visitors. In short, they've 
always felt that The Argus serves the campus best as a newspaper, not a newslet- 

Through the Eyes of The Argus: 100 Years of Journalism at Illinois 
Wesleyan University thus becomes the latest volume in an informal series of uni- 
versity histories, joining William H. Wilder 's An Historical Sketch of the Illinois 
Wesleyan University (1895), Elmo Scott Watson's The Illinois Wesleyan Story: 
1850-1950 (1950), George Vinyard's Illinois Wesleyan University: Growth, 
Turning Points and New Directions Since the Second World War (1975), Lloyd 
M. Bertholf 's A Personal Memoir of the Bertholf Years at Illinois Wesleyan 
University, 1958-68 (1984) and Robert S. Eckley's Pictures At An Exhibition: 
Illinois Wesleyan University, 1968-1986 (1992). Three of those were written or 
edited by university presidents, one by an alumnus for the 125th anniversary of 
Illinois Wesleyan and one by a journalism professor primarily hired to write the 

This volume constitutes the first history written by students still enrolled at 
Illinois Wesleyan. It's the story of a campus told not only through the eyes of 
The Argus, but through the eyes of students in the 1990s. It's possible (even 
likely) that a book written for The Argus sesquicentennial would tell an entirely 
different history of the campus, just as it would reveal much about what students 
in the 2040s found interesting in century-high stacks of university newspapers. 

The amount of material in so many newspapers is overwhelming — so much 
so, that Chris Fusco and Jennifer Barrell once joked about subtitling the book, 
"Trapped in the Archives." It's been my pleasure (and pain) to work with them 
on this project, and not only write the foreword, but give them a not-so-gentle 
push forward whenever they needed it. But there are more university histories 
still waiting for future researchers to unearth in the archives, and an uninterrupt- 
ed newspaper publication streak to maintain. So on behalf of the authors and 
this year's Argus staff, I dedicate this book to all student journalists at Illinois 
Wesleyan University, past and future. You're all a little crazy. 

James Plath 
Professor of English 
January 7, 1994 

Chapter 1 Before The Eyes of The Argus 3 


Before the Eyes of The Argus 

The Argus was by no means the first student publication to serve the Illinois 
Wesleyan University campus. Early precursors included newspapers and jour- 
nals published by individuals, literary societies and Greek organizations — many 
of them in competition. They included the Alumni Journal (1870-77), The 
Ventilator underground newspaper (June 1872), The Students' Journal (1877- 
1885), The College Herald (1881-1882), The Wesleyan Bee (1882-87), The Elite 
Journal (1887-92), The Oracle (1887-1888), The Avenger underground newspa- 
per (1888), The Athenian (1890) and The Wesleyan Echo (1890-94). The 1905 
Wesleyana yearbook also listed two additional papers, The Journal (1885-86) 
and The News and the Bee (1886), though no copies exist in university archives. 
Most of the publications began with a literary section — poems, short stories and 
essays — followed by opinion. Then came the "locals" section, which included 
news notes about individual students and departments. An "exchange" section 
often appeared in which editors reported highlights (or lowlights) of other col- 
lege newspapers — even to the point of critiquing them, as when The Students ' 
Journal noted that "The Collegian, from Cornell, shows ability in selection and 
arrangement of matter, but the finish is not quite so good" (January 1878). 

Illinois Wesleyan's newspapers began with the Alumni Journal, published 
monthly by Professors Harvey C. DeMotte and B.S. Potter from June 1870 to 
July 1877. The 5 1/2x8 1/2-inch Journal averaged 23 two-column pages and 
largely featured essays on science and philosophy. Included in the Alumni 
Journal were articles on former IWU geology professor John Wesley Powell's 
exploration of the Colorado River, the "Fructification of Plants," "Christless 
Systems of Religion" and an essay on "Reading and Writers" which claimed that 
"Reading without purpose is sauntering, not exercise" (May 1872). With such 
mentally challenging stories, the Alumni Journal must have been a real workout 
for subscribers. 

Likewise, the staid Wesleyan community must have been shocked when the 
first underground newspaper, The Ventilator, appeared for a single issue in June 
1872, vowing to publish "whenever the mental and moral atmosphere of 
Bloomington becomes noisome, and demands purification." The single broad- 
sheet not only threatened "to collect news and unearth abuses," but also offered 
to pay students for information. The newspaper had the audacity to pan a psy- 

Chapter 1 Before The Eyes of The Argus 4 


f « :/ I if* 

"*" !l I 111:11; II!!!! « 


■ 11-! i 1 

II' 111 | II 11 ILI 



Hedding Hall, Illinois Wesleyan's "Old Main/' was located in front of where Sheean 
Library stands in 1994. it was a popular subject for post cards and early university 

chology textbook by university President Oliver S. Munsell, calling it "a regular 
crusher." Editors also sarcastically advised students who "are not related to 
someone of the faculty or some minister of high standing in the Methodist 
Church" to "announce your determination to become a keeper of the flock. This 
has always been a high recommendation for faculty favor." Editors went even 
further in attacking what they called Wesleyan favoritism, singling out Professor 
DeMotte (co-publisher of the Alumni Journal) as one who, "like all other weak, 
mean men . . . can readily be flattered; and being an unscrupulous intriguer, a lit- 
tle soft soap well applied always brings a handsome return." 

In November 1877, publishers of the Alumni Journal turned the paper over 
to students, explaining that rising costs and a naturally evolving focus on current 
students forced the change. While The Students' Journal of the Illinois Wesleyan 
University numbered its first issue Volume VIII to acknowledge its history, stu- 
dent control brought a change in attitude. The Students' Journal promised to 
maintain "the high standard of the Alumni Journal in literary merit," but its edi- 
tors also announced their intent to "make it more of a college paper, and give it 
more of a college air, by devoting more space to such news and items as will 
interest those desiring such a paper." 

Chapter 1 Before The Eyes of The Argus 5 

Each issue included an editorial dealing with campus behavior, one of them 
urging that "all students who have the welfare of the university at heart, will 
assist the faculty in its endeavors to have better order in the halls and chapel." 
Editors suggested that professors could help alleviate the problem if each would 
"dismiss his class promptly at the ringing of the bell" (February 1879). Short 
articles reported more serious campus concerns — like heat: 

During the holidays, the old stoves were taken from Prof. DeMotte's and 
Prof. Crow's rooms, and the ladies' dressing room, and large furnaces 
substituted. These furnaces were connected to the chapel, and that room is 
heated by them also. It is an improvement on the old way. (February 1879) 

The Journal's expanded campus coverage included trivia ("The senior class 
numbers seventeen," May 1878); faculty and student news ("A large party of 
students, composed principally of seniors and juniors, recently surprised 
Professor Brown and 
family," November 
1877); alumni news 
("Cupid's darts are still 
showered down upon the 
ranks of the knights of 
celibacy. Two more of 
our alumni have become 
benedicts," April 1878); 
unsubstantiated reports 
from eastern universities 
("Yale professors are said 
to be the wealthiest of 
their class"; "Dr. Cook 
says that Harvard 
University has never pro- 
duced a man with a warm 
heart for the people"; 
"Union College claims to 
have educated more 
members of congress 
than any other college in 
the country. If they are 
there now, it does not say 
much for Union," June 
1879); jokes ("Why is the 
Junior class like the 
Roman Republic? It is 
becoming effeminate," 
May 1879); and gossip 
("Miss Wilson has lost 

The Students' Journal (1877-85) 

Chapter 1 Before The Eyes of The Argus 6 

her Hart, but what young lady has not been thus afflicted," May, 1880). For such 
information, students paid $1 for "one year, in advance," or bought single copies 
for 15 cents. 

Editors of The Students' Journal apparently thought well of the paper — the 
longest running of all The Argus precursors — for they reported that "Several of 
the boys seem desirous of journalistic honors, as the city papers each have a 
Wesleyan reporter. Go in boys, you may some day become proficient enough to 
aspire to a place on the JOURNAL staff (March 1879). 

For the most part, however, essays far outweighed information. One issue 
featured the address of the "President of the Law Class on Class Day," an alum- 
ni "oration," essays on good character, "The Philosophy of Life" and the 
"Importance of Classical Learning in the Professions" (July 1878). An inside 
front-cover advertisement for the university listed the entire faculty — all twelve 
of them — as well as the six-member staff from the "Law Department," founded 
on April 6, 1874. 

On September 20, 1881, the eight-page, semi-monthly College Herald 
appeared, "To promote the best interests of its readers, and perpetuate fraternity 
among all who are and have been students of Wesleyan University." And pro- 
mote the Herald did. Every 
front page was a virtual 
IWU advertisement, with a 
drawing of Old Main 
(Hedding Hall), a list of 
colleges (liberal arts, law, 
music and commerce) and 
rosters of the faculty and 
the Board of Trustees. The 
newspaper was not afraid to 
use school spirit to take an 
occasional potshot at its 
competitor, The Students' 
Journal, whose editorials, 
the Herald claimed, "for 
length and monotony would 
far surpass the five hour 
sermons of early Method- 
ism" (February 3, 1882). 

By printing letters to 
the editor, the Herald 
proved to be more student- 
focused than The Students' 
Journal, but no more excit- 
ing. Letters mostly dealt 




Liberal Arts, 







~s*€i W J*. €3 %f &» *P ■*• , 


H. H. ADAMS. D D., President and Professor Ethics and I FRANCES H MOSS ' "' ** D ™ n * »"" *+*« 

Metaphysics. . COLLEGE OF LAW. 

C.E R. M BENJAMIN, Dean of Law Faculty. Real Property. 

Judge O. T. REEVES. LL.D., Contracts. 

:>N LAWRENCE WF.LDON, Torts, Equity and Evidence. 

\. G. KARR, LL.B-. Common Law and Equity Pleadings. 

E. M. PRINCE. A. M., Pleading and Criminal Law. 

. D i\i 3 T Te: Ph. D.. Vice-President ami Professor Matliemal 

SUE M. D. FRY. Ph. D., Professor Belles Lettres. 

C. M. MOSS, M. A., Professor Greek. 

IRev. A.J. NAST, M. A., Professor Latin and German. 

, Ph. D., Professor Botany and Geology 
AN, Instructor in Elocution. 


. MYERS, LL.B.. Practice. 

..B., Elementary Law 
J. GEO. CROSS. A. M., Dean. 

Hats, Caps, Fursf Gents' Furnishing Goods. 



College Herald (188 1-82) 

Chapter 1 Before The Eyes of The Argus 7 

with trivial matters — everything from school spirit to chapel seating — though 
one writer complained, 

Are we ever to have any more lectures at the Wesleyan? A few years 
ago the Wesleyan professors gave us Sunday afternoon lectures on vari- 
ous topics, and the societies had their regular lecture course, which 
brought such men as Beecher, Tilton, Tamage, Cook, and others of 
national repute. Today we have nothing of the kind. (February 3, 1882) 
The Herald also heralded the birth of campus news-commentary (some of it 
contradictory), including items that went beyond routine announcements: 
"University to be heated by furnace next year. Amen!" (February 3, 1882) or 
"Oratorical meetings of late have been spicy — very spicy. An amendment to the 
constitution extending the time of orations to 15 1/2 minutes failed of adoption, 
but a rule to that effect carried" (May 31, 1882). Like most other pre-Argus pub- 
lications, the Herald cost $1 "per annum" and operated solely on subscriptions 
and advertising revenue. 

Despite the fact that women had been admitted to the university in 1 870, The 
Wesleyan Bee was started by 10 men — five Phi Gamma Deltas and five Phi Delta 
Thetas — in October 1882, though the first issue quickly pointed out that "it is not 
under the control of those fraternities or any society at all." Yet, its appearance 
set the stage for a decade of bitter rivalry between Greek-sponsored newspapers 
and those sponsored by independent students and literary societies. Despite the 
addition of a section devoted to Greek announcements, the Bee was nothing to 
buzz about. Only two articles went beyond the usual dry academic matter and 
campus gossip: one which attacked the university for "sluggish inactivity" in 
providing the fewest oratorical contests and public exhibitions of all known col- 
leges (January 1884), and another which touted the IWU curriculum as being 
"now in excess of any college in the state, Evanston not excepted. Viva la 
Wesleyan!" (February 12, 1886). If there was a buzz, it was the faculty's reac- 
tion to a Greek-society newspaper. 

When the Bee stopped publishing in 1887, an irritated IWU faculty passed 
a resolution that no paper be published unless all factions of the university — 
Greeks, independents and the literary societies — be represented. In defiance, 
The Elite Journal emerged during fall 1887, later explaining that "to come to a 
satisfactory adjustment of all factions seemed impossible, and efforts to organize 
a Harmonious staff were ineffectual" (January 24, 1890). Although the Elites, a 
non-secretive organization of independent students, were threatened with sus- 
pension for publishing their first Journal, no action was taken. 

Clearly, "the Wesleyan" did not oppose The Elite Journal, since the universi- 
ty bought advertising space to promote its music department, literary depart- 
ments and societies and law department, taught by "the best talent of the 
Bloomington bar." Sounding more parental than presidential in the ad, Reverend 
William H. Wilder promised "watchful oversight of the welfare of all students" 
and "term reports sent to all parents." 

Chapter 1 Before The Eyes of The Argus 8 

The Elite Journal fea- 
tured ornate covers with 
drawings of Hedding Hall 
and a winged muse sitting 
atop a stack of books. 
Although the Journal 
included the usual smat- 
tering of poems, essays 
and orations on various 
aspects of morality, it 
also read like the campus 
health report, printing 20 
or 30 "news" briefs 
which informed students 
that "Mr. McGinty is 
down with the 'grip'" 
(January 24, 1890), "Miss 
Young is compelled to 
give up her voice culture 
for an indefinite period 
on account of the serious 
trouble she is having with 
her throat" (March 1, 
1890) or that "C.S. Lyles 
returned home Monday to 
see his 'mamma' and also 
to look after a severe 
cold" (January 17, 1890). 
In addition, "Y.M. and Y.W.C.A." columns tried to keep students on the 
straight and narrow, as this January 24, 1890 announcement illustrates: "Girls, 
remember our meeting is Friday, at 4 p.m. If you want to live a better life, come, 
and we will tell you how we found Jesus, and how you may find him" (January 
24, 1890). 

Elsewhere, articles on campus literary societies reported the results of 
debates, including one of the most interesting of the term. The question, 
"Resolved, That the best interests of our Nation demand the exportation of the 
Negro." Affirmed by Messrs. Watson and Bradford; denied by Messrs. Hopkins 
and Scrogin. Decision of judges, for negative" (February 7, 1890). 

Seeing that The Elite Journal was able to publish in spite of the faculty edict, 
the Greek Letter Fraternities quickly followed with their own newspaper, The 
Oracle, published from 1887-88. Some of their editorials had a classical sound 
to them, such as one which warned seniors, "Sons of men, beware! Tremble, ye 
seekers after popular amusement! Ye occupants of high social position, quake 
and totter on your thrones, for your time is short. On the Ides of June there will 

The Elite Journal (1887-92) 

Chapter 1 Before The Eyes of The Argus 9 

be launched a mighty force which shall make thee fugitives and vagabonds in the 
earth" (November 19, 1888). 

The Oracle, similar in format to the other newspapers of the day, was among 
the smallest — only 14 pages. In addition to notes on Greek life and the law school, 
the newspaper also included a "sporting" section, which told readers that "The 
bicycle club is experiencing some difficulty with their machines" and suggested 
that "What we need is a gymnasium. Will some ardent admirer of the University 
contribute the necessary funds? A little louder, please" (November 5, 1888). 

On February 15, 1888, another paper appeared: The Avenger, "A Semi- 
Monthly Paper Published by the Barbarians of the Illinois Wesleyan University 
in the interest of Right, Honesty, and Justice." Although the newspaper was 
apparently published that fall as well, only the first issue remains in university 
archives — perhaps because copies were so offensive to the campus that they 
were destroyed. The underground newspaper's editors had no qualms about 
attacking both Greeks and Elites: 

The Elites have their Journal, The Greeks their Oracle. These are party 
papers, published for sectional aggrandizement. The "Barbs" have an 
interest in neither, hence the necessity for a third paper. And right here 
let us give fair warning that we are not respectful of persons, and 
whether faculty or student, Greek or Elite, unless you keep within the 
proper bounds, you are destined to fall under the ban of our avenging 
quill. (February 15, 1888) 
Members of the Avenger wasted no time using their quill to put down both 
publications as well as the university. The editors complained that there was 
only one "Barb" — unaffiliated with Greek or literary societies — among the fac- 
ulty, and questioned, "Is it proper for professors, who consider the better inter- 
ests of our school, to show their allegiance to fraternities?" Their remedy: "Put 
a head on the faculty, take one off the Greeks, annihilate the Elites, and we will 
have smooth sailing." 

A bitter paper, The Avenger attacked the "ethics of secrecy" practiced by 
some literary organizations and all fraternities. The "Barbarians" threw racist 
barbs as well, complaining that the bookstore greeted students with "the smile of 
a Jew" and printing this anti-black and anti-Greek poem: 
Ten little Greekies, meeting down town, 
Cute little fellows, wearing fine gown. 
One little Greekie took too much wine, 
Put him in the cooler, then there were nine. 
Nine little Greekies got into nigger heaven, 
Two got caught, then there were seven. . . . (February 15, 1888) 
Though the newspaper carried no "masthead" listing the names of its editors, 
notes written on a surviving copy by junior Andrew Horner Harnley tell an inter- 
esting story: 

This paper was scattered . . . through the halls this morning by a news 
boy from the city. Its publishers remain a mystery, but it is needless to 

Chapter 1 Before The Eyes of The Argus 10 

Vol I, No 1. 

Febrile 15, 1888, 

®k IJuumjjcr 


Published by the Barbarians o/\tlie Illinois Wesley 


No anonymous contributions accepted. J Name will not be 

printed if the writer forbids, but it must accompany 

the MSS. to show the author's good faith. 

Subscription Price, 50e. a Year. 


Address all Communications to 

The Avenger Pub. Co. 

Care Wesleyan Univs 

say it is the great topic 
of conversation here. 
The whole business is 
a mysterious affair and 
about half the students 
have been accused of 
publishing it. Some 
have even blamed me 
for it. Read it and tell 
me if you think the 
Greeks are mad? 
If the Greeks weren't, the 
faculty was. Though the edi- 
torship of The Avenger remains 
a mystery, the minutes from the 
faculty meeting on March 2, 
1888 report that a "Motion was 
made that the President write to 
the fathers of Messrs. [Fred C] 
Earl and [Clyde] Pitts, and ask 
them to take the boys out of 
school immediately." Earl and 
Pitts were both enrolled in the 
two-year preparatory school at 
Wesleyan, a program offered in 
addition to the regular four-year program. Although neither student returned the 
next fall, others apparently revived The Avenger, for in November 1888, The 
Oracle disdainfully asked, 

Will the Barb paper and its following in the interest of pure air and 

respectability in general appearance, kindly rinse their mouths, take a 

good half hour shower bath, and don an entire change of raiment at least 

once a term, and place a confiding public under personal obligation? 

Come again. 

The Oracle ceased publication when it foresaw another fraternity willing to 

take up the printer's ink. The Athenian, "A Fortnightly Magazine issued in the 

Literary interests of the Illinois Wesleyan University and its Greek-Letter 

Fraternities," began on January 17, 1890, with a two-page essay entitled "The 

Idea Of Fraternity." Editors of the bi-weekly published a critique of their paper 

in which The Notre Dame Scholastic recognized it as "the recent rival of The 

Elite Journal" adding that "Typographically, the Athenian is inferior to the Elite 

Journal but it surpasses the latter in its quality and diversity of literary matter" 

(March 15, 1890). The paper even featured occasional "hard" news, including 

the story of how 

A young man from one of the Wesleyan Law classes met with a very 

The Avenger (1888), one of two underground 
newspapers during the pre-Argus period. 

Chapter 1 Before The Eyes of The Argus 11 

narrow escape last Friday afternoon. In attempting to jump from a mov- 
ing train between the union and O., I. and W. depots his overcoat caught 
on the step, under which he was swung and dragged some distance along 
the rail, greatly damaging his clothing, but luckily receiving little physi- 
cal hurt. (February 15, 1890, quoted from The Daily Pantagraph ) 
Yet, most of The Athenian's contents were devoted to arguments against the Elite 
society, branding it "an anti-fraternity organization . . . that employs itself in cre- 
ating a division in class and college politics and interests, much to the detriment 
of these rather than to the fraternities themselves" (April 18, 1890). Another 
issue attacked the ironic name of the rival society, arguing that because the Elites 
only required that its members be students, "consequently, the society's ranks are 
filled with all classes of students" (March 15, 1890). 

Like The Oracle, this Greek newspaper printed occasional items about 
sports — something the independent journals did not consider. The May 10, 1890 
issue applauded "Athletic interests picking up" at IWU and observed that "It was 
a surprise to note that there was suitable places for the two new tennis courts on 
the 'miniature landscape garden' around the building." Curiously, The Athenian 
reported "the defeat, Saturday, of our ball nine," but neglected to include the 
score of the baseball game. And in promoting school athletics, The Athenian 
criticized The Elite Journal once more, setting off another round of attacks and 

When The Wesleyan Echo entered the fray in 1890, its editors — Richard 
Little, who went on to work as a war correspondent for the Chicago Tribune, and 
Archie Bowen, who became publisher of the Illinois State Journal — promised to 
rise above the special interests that had divided the campus. Vowing to publish 
"a college paper" that would keep the best interests of the university in mind, 
they focused more on campus information than opinion and expanded coverage 
of departments. The November 27, 1891 issue, for example, featured briefs on 
the Department of Crayon (one of sixteen in the Wilson College of Arts, a course 
of study which took six years): 

The principal of the Department of Crayon tells us that letters are fre- 
quently received from old students . . . expressing their thankfulness that 
they were persuaded to learn the Wilson Progressive Eclectic Crayon 
Drawing. One received this week from a highly educated lady (an "ex- 
schoolmarm") now teaching this work says, "I shall ever bless the day I 
commenced learning your crayon drawing, for it gives me more pleasure 
than I can tell you to see the beautiful work that even an amateur can do." 
Although The Echo opted for this sort of cheerleading rather than mudsling- 
ing, administrators and faculty had apparently lost their patience with student 
publications. In the end, typography, not controversy, did them all in. 
According to minutes from the March 26, 1 894 meeting, the faculty resolved 

That the publishers of the Echo be notified that the typography of the 
paper must be more carefully attended to and the errors of grammar and 
spelling so plainly observable must be eliminated in the next issue or 

Chapter 1 Before The Eyes of The Argus 12 

thereafter the Faculty will be under the necessity of ordering its distribu- 
tion discontinued. . . . That a committee be raised to devise some way of 
making a paper that will be a creditable presentation of the University, 
and that a report be made at the next meeting. 
The committee recommended that "under no circumstances should a paper 
be conducted under the name of the university when managed by parties not stu- 
dents." Their plan called for the formation of a paper which would include 

a board of seven editors, four from the present Junior class, and three 
from the present Sophomore class ... all to be chosen by the Faculty. 
These seven editors to have entire charge of the management of the 
paper, to choose their own officers out of the number, with the exception 
of the editor-in-chief, to divide annually any profits that may accrue from 
the attempt, and to share any deficit that may be made. (April 6, 1 894) 
In addition to holding the editors of the new newspaper financially responsible, 
faculty voted to make the editor-in-chief "responsible to the Faculty for the read- 
ing and advertising matter that appears in the paper." 
Thus, The Argus was born. 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 13 



Vol. I. 


No. 1. 


A pious sheik, the ancient- story tells. 
Lived near a sacred mountain In the East, 

And all bis hours not given to fast and prayer 
Were spent In giving cheer to man and beast, 

One night while passing through the tents he heard 

An Arab's voice in earnest, fervent prayer? 
And paused, rejoiced to find the midnight hoar 
•Was spent invoking Allah's toviag care. 

His Jong prayer done, the Arab saw the sheik, 
And called attention to the sleeping throng; 
"I rise to pray tbree times before the morn, 

They sleep like clods of earth the whole night long.** 

So sad and sorrowful the sheik's response, 
Abashed, he sought his vacant bed again: 

"Better to sleep on prayerlees conch till dawn 
Than waken bat to blsrae thy fellowmen." 

• — Victor Qrnge Kimhert. 


SECOND PRIZE ORATION, I. W. V, ,0031X199,, 1394— J. RI0€8 ORE. 

The world of nature is subject to continual 
change. The stony strata, which today the 
earth unfolds, are but the record of past revo- 
lutions. The seared leaves of autumn are fol- 
lowed by the bright verdure of spring. Plants 
spring from the earth, blossom, and wither 
away, but from their decay rise higher and 
more beautiful forms. From the struggling 
bit of protoplasm of a bygone age Divine 
Agency has evolved the varied, complex forms 
of animal life. Even dumb matter, winging 
its way under the guiding hand of the Creator, 
moves in steady rounds. Our ponderous earth 
is whirling through shoreless space. The 
rivers glide unceasingly along their earth- 
worn channels. Everywhere there is motion, 
and in every change nature unfolds her plan of 
development. Onward toward some distant 
goal each atom moves, and every form of life 
tends to a higher state. 

The science of government presents the 
same succession and contrast. Lower forms 
are succeeded by higher; the new supplants 
the old, and the old unites with the new. 

Everywhere there is growth, developraetit,and 

improvement. The cycles of revolving years 
have revealed the ever advancing tide of hu- 
manity's evolution. "We cannot go backward. 
Our steps tend ever toward a higher plane. 
Each age Imparts its lesson; each period has 
its mead of gold. In the progress of social ev- 
olution, paganism has given place toChrisfian- 
ity, tyranny to monarchy, and feudalism to 
representative government. Even in the mid- 
night of the middle ages, when God's stars 
forgot to shine, foundations were being laid 
• for better social systems. States and govern- 
ments are born but to die. But, as mankind 
moves onward in the march of civilization, gov- 
ernment has advanced as well. From the des- 
potisms of Persia and Egypt came the repub- 
lics of Greece and Rome, -bringing faint gleams 
of future civilization, and the course of empire, 
sweeping over their sacred fields, gathered 
the subtle strains of freedom until the refrain 
of liberty reverberated on the shores of a new 

Freedom of action, civil and individual, has 

The first Argus front page. 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 14 


Evolution of The Argus 

From Literary Journal to Newspaper 

The Wesleyan Argus appeared on Monday, September 17, 1894 with a front 
page that featured poetry and oration instead of hard news. For the next six 
years, the newspaper — printed on 16, 7 1/2x1 2-inch stapled pages with a maga- 
zine-style cover — filled its front pages with poems, speeches, short stories and 
essays on everything from travel to astronomy. The front page of that first issue, 
which editors subtitled "The College Paper," led with Victor George Kimbert's 
poem, "An Eastern Tale," and J. Riggs Orr's oration, "The Evolution of 
Government," which won second place at Wesleyan's annual intercollegiate ora- 
torical contest. 

Consistent with other front page orations and essays of the decade, Orr's was 
so full of purple prose and complex sentences that it sounded more like verbose" 
novelist (Sir) Walter Scott than newsman Walter Cronkite: 

And moving onward to the harmonious symphony of true citizenship 
and a higher manhood, in one universal voice, a united people bids the 
world behold a true republic, an 'indissoluble union of indestructible 
states,' a nation where the hearts of the sturdy Northerner and impetuous 
Southerner beat in a unison of hope; where the golden gate on the West 
is matched by golden ties of brotherhood on the East; a land where free- 
dom is complete, from bleak New England's rugged coast to the sunny 
slopes of the Western sea; from the Northern lakes to the starlit gulf. 
Despite Orr's rhetoric, oration was not just a man's sport. One 1894 photo- 
graph caption, or "cutline," announced that Wesleyan students could learn a few 
things from "Miss Anna Lee Darnbrough, Public Reader and Teacher of 
Elocution and Delsartian Method [a system of calisthenics combined with 
singing, declamation and dancing to develop bodily grace]: "We subjoin a few 
Testimonials which may be of interesting value to those desiring her services." 
Like other publications of the era, The Argus had a tendency to capitalize 
improper nouns. 

In addition to full length features on everything from the shrine of 
Guadalupe to Mars, literary articles dry as dust dominated early issues, supple- 
mented by a hodgepodge of news items on campus events, organizations and 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 15 

speakers. Stories that amounted to little more than announcements of events for 
the music and law schools, YMCA and YWCA appeared on pages three or four, 
while editors grouped campus notes under the headlines "Law Locals" and 
"Local and Personal" on successive pages. But few of the entries seem notewor- 
thy by 1990s standards. Consider this Law Locals item from March 6, 1896: 

There is talk of the junior class "chipping in" and purchasing a spittoon 

for one of the professors, who cannot resist the temptation to use tobacco 

during the recitation hour. And from the looks of the floor, we would 

suggest the professor might have occasion to buy one or more for some 

of the class. 

While such concerns seem comical by 1990s standards, they can be compared to 

the debate over second-hand smoke that caused students in 1993 to write The 

Argus in protest over the university ban on smoking. 

Not many of those early news items were as issue-centered, however. Most 
reported simple comings and goings, such as the earth-shaking pronouncement 
that "On last Thursday evening, the members of the Phi Gamma Delta Fraternity 
entertained their gentlemen friends in their hall" (February 21, 1896). 

Sports news like "We're not such cranks as to attempt to play football with 
eight inches of show on the ground" (December 17, 1895) came under an 
"Athletics" banner, while an "Exchange" section featured news from other 
papers, including Illinois State's Vidette, Northwestern's Northwestern, 
Nebraska's Nebraskan, Yale's Yale Record, the other "Wesleyan Argus in the 
field" at Wesleyan University in Connecticut, and even the nearby Decatur High 
School Observer. Editorials and letters on school spirit, facilities, procrastina- 
tion, courtesy and classwork appeared every few issues. 

Under the direction of German and Greek Professor Wilbert T. Ferguson, 
Illinois Wesleyan's own university press printed The Argus from 1894 to 1903. 
"No addition to the Wesleyan in recent years has been more profitable than the 
establishment of a university press," wrote the November 1, 1895 Argus. "The 
first issues of The Argus, while an improvement over any hereto printed, will be 
improved upon until the appearance of the paper will challenge the admiration of 
the most fastidious." 

Occasionally bordered with Wesleyan's navy blue and steel gray colors, 
which were changed to green and white in 1896, front cover designs varied. The 
most popular featured a drawing of Hedding Hall — which, because it was 
Bloomington-Normal's tallest building, also appeared on area post cards. 
Advertisements, most of them business card-sized, occupied an average of four 
pages at the front and back of every issue and featured extensive artwork and an 
occasional photo. 

As stipulated in the spring, 1894 faculty mandate, Argus staff consisted of 
five junior and senior editors — an editor-in-chief, a literary editor, two local edi- 
tors who covered campus news and an exchange editor to gather news from 
other colleges. A business manager and subscription agent completed the staff. 
Until 1912, college credit was given for sufficient work on The Argus, according 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 16 

to the February 15, 1912 faculty meeting minutes. The regular staff took a one 
week hiatus every spring when, "according to time honored tradition," the fresh- 
man class printed the "Freshman Number," "to show the rest of the students their 
ability to do things" (April 8, 1921). 

Days of publication randomly fluctuated between Monday and Friday until 
1933, when it was decided that The Argus should be printed on Tuesday night 
and distributed on Wednesday morning after chapel services. The newspaper 
switched to a Friday distribution date in 1957 and has not changed since. 

Subscription rates started out at one dollar per year ("payable in advance"), 
40 cents per semester and 10 cents for a single issue. Students had to subscribe to 
The Argus until the 1920s, when they paid for the paper through their student 
activity fees. Reports from early issues indicate that nearly all of Wesleyan's 
400 students subscribed, though not all paid their bills on time. Editors would 
often print notes reminding readers not only to pay their subscriptions, but also to 
read the newspaper for their own enjoyment and not pass it on to a non-subscriber. 

In 1900, The Argus shifted from a journal-style, bi-weekly format to a cover- 
less eight-page weekly. Editors added an events calendar and university/staff 
directories on the newly-designed front page, which measured 9x12 1/2 inches. 
Individual issue prices fell to five cents, but subscriptions remained a dollar. By 
1902, the newspaper reported that "Many students keep files of The Argus 
throughout their course, and find them very interesting to review years after." 

Students from the class of 1903 had some interesting material to review from 
the April 23 issue of that year, which reported that a Wesleyan student had kid- 
napped a neighborhood girl. According to The Argus, the girl was blocking the 
outside light the student was using to perform an experiment in a biology labora- 
tory: "The gentleman who was detailed to do the work stepped out and gently 
seizing the first girl by the arm remarked in a harmless voice that she would 
make a splendid little specimen for dissection." The student kept hold of the girl 
just long enough for her friend to report the incident. "Her panic stricken moth- 
er turned in an alarm to the police" and organized "a battalion of indignant citi- 
zens of all ages and sizes, both male and female," wrote The Argus. Despite this 
lynch mob, the paper never reported if police arrested the student, which leads 
one to wonder about the credibility of the article in the first place. 

Despite the newspaper's success, the 1904 editorial board decided to make 
The Argus less of a memento and more "strictly a newspaper" by eliminating 
poetry, essays and short stories: 

It is our intention to edit a college newspaper and do away with the habit 

of running some dry essay as a leader each week. We hope that in this 

way we will bring the students alumni and friends more closely together 

and that at the end of the year we can all say that we really have a live 

college paper. (September 23, 1904) 

The staff printed news articles on visiting speakers, activities and alumni, while 

football game stories made their first appearance on the front page — a trend that 

would continue until 1943. 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 17 



i an ^ 




Pssfsitshc-sl weekly is sfee intcfi,-.! of :!>c li 

<.Wis Wc*lnatt lf-sj!^cr*itv %u s h « 


\V, S«»\ KMHKK ». !'»•-*. 

,• s ... 





U. a* California St-ad«*>4*C*WfaMt« 

F«dt«<rs HoW a Q*«i P*r«y a»4 

Team to Flay a Strtmg l^ca! 

Thr TeaM Sc«e«. ft* Fir*. Vfctwf 

Strang* Aaoual Custom 

At* Giv«n Th*tt First Dt»ci- 

Affr«gatson Tfes* Afttmorto 

In a Fi<rr« &r«« f k Woh fat 

Syttzum Down* Daneing 

jsJmaty Tr*tem« 

Barclay th< Lat««t R«er»i* 

¥t<&*%o%unh',- Star P1»ym« 

-HJHi 1— 

..... , ( ,,. . ... 

——■ — ~ 

Chicago £t«g-«la««s Clas* Etce&mt 

P 5a ? a aaror with a l.wnt™ 

StOfT of »to* Game 

Tin ;tajar»a* for the m-cawsn 

:H^Sxi? : li 

..n,..- wbiti l>«! .»r. made to do 


celebration i« in pttrtg »•■«• of 


^.r*; h '?l;i n e^ 

KavUurn lofi»w«r<i !>« »'<i^ ri • 

.-.,.!-.. Thi- 

Fmra Sir»c«*e ...roe* the re* 

;.-,,s,-«i on J.V..MM »l hUtalml tot 

:•• hi a». iatrfe*ttti K ont to *» . 

lowed to dance either m a mem- 

tfi..nm-r ' in »■!».:& He .?en f e<! hi-. 

an.?* help she \„.\- oti t- '. tor. 

,,-r.y ia---.*. S -=■ -<•< - --'• 

ber of itrifaciitations .,r individu- 

m--mi«-r*bitt ?•> the .;«••'», <):jt> 

ally aa«i 3«J of the student* de- 
lufimsjr thentveltress in thin, man- 

■'•■!»»-'" fumwh,-,? r i,-«tv oi 


' Tl' " ' - V ' 

ner will be rewarded by «*. he »«< Sates aad then S-- 

The fctaawlHaa r.»terar«s 

$»•»***"" '•'•- 1 h ,'■■ . lb* of the 

w<-Tt- taken to the S'v-.verv- 

SotH'tt arrk-d out i'- pr««r»« 

institution •*.-, ros i.> think that 

wh*Te ar» cntraaee wa* eSf e. t ■■ •! 

the bfai«s t*eed nwry devetop- 

\>-i a W(»o»* aa«J 'hi- r,.*„r<W 

me-rn than she heel*. 

the rtctim* were meted o«t. 

a s.ry intwstirijr •tuxy <\> ■*■<■-. .- 

The Senior Oanetl of ttw 

flfiat! wa* Sr%t on '.he f»ee^jra»t 

m% the death »i ifcm-divl 

Hs'>«-r'«H of Chicago voted to 

*«4 hs« »•«!<« *-.!■» j{f«»!'v 

Af«- >'d 

" ' "" **"**>• 

" t * , \ 

","j^^ ,.,^ht aB d „ mi ,S 

^'sLn4lv n ^7 ! Mhr ,mi ^ <m 

tiv, yard in. S«»aw *a •- 

wfefcfe, it h mimerwt, «.» adtapart* 

»Umg in ■■■• jara ,<«.? Snail* 

K»H eafl. Oaotatioa* inns 

* '"'"■ " ' 

Utwied I ... I ■•"■■ '•> inkit»« at the 

;.f-,.mifsef,< tw[«i|a sjtralswr* 

. V' "r."' ! ^!!Xw 

top of Sh • ha$x ' *tait*. J *a% 

he. pretent S»re»sd«nua! lam. 

of so*,,.**, ,„ a^., <atrem ex . 

t>aijf» Ee. ft CttB&i&fffcMt. Mnnsp 

fwawsr*. The ciutqgc will 4-, 

-;■, ,-. h«-s. Keputdoaii. Mr. to-.rd- 

tneas good. 

.m; ivm.*r^ts. , Mr, A, U. 

\. r « i i: »!0< rl l«wsar»«nn >' • M 

TneSfeaJo* i:iam> at Ww'fWsiii, 

■,,-...-, ajwi nseRaa^wxIv w^jhir.S a 

••-. igtil Mi- Etta K«< ; Pro- 

b*r»0K !«ctwor (.*«»«! tfeat 

Ursr«r (Mtf «f *fe«?«?|e»H«ar* Mi; 

«n down*. At tin- :««;ttt t"iiur. H 

tfee i«4ef«*isd>»t a«it»<S« of tite 

wf?!,.h Sse j.r«6.ee4«S !on-m<o..- 

As «.'), ri .:e >t ■<»• t*«Hf*« the 

w.nt ?brou«>i tackle bw 'oe 

Frnteis class this ttat no 

\i.< i.iiis s.i'.-i .;;.. .... '..•'*- sast<!-. ted Met tii;.-U"h ran a 

aerasrwf »I2 Ww.mwa tradition 

*ho«re<! f.-rmer tr*is»sr *!«*»«! » 

T«c«it») sssirbt, the ..s«~t!U,iti..n. 

wi<k en.i run fe* .-ij-ht vards. 

a®3 «ia»^f-f,,a, to the prepc* ad- 

uwaurta] line. "Awdon'tW- 

whteh ha- he-etl in the hamKol 

Sorwai se. ure.! ti>. Uaii .-n (tows* 

jas»**tratto« «f college affair*. 

(ow*** pfesdten the vntsm, bMl hi* 

the exeiutite ...omttiittoe under- 

ha* pa**ed rule* resj»irit»tr tto*t 

«„f<K were %xv*:U>A with a 

goittg tension, w*i aecfptwi toy 

West, van started the ra*h front 

»ft«h«M *bai§ Ml on tit* 

b«a<«- »«<f «rati»g i»«ffbt«r awl 

tbtr ssoeieH'. Step* are now iw 

the ifitter of the field, t'hureb 

«• vm ftace, carry « carte, wear a 

oaly »«t.!ee! fm-S t« the already 

iitlt fak€-n to tnere«*e the niem!«-r- 

went throogh tackle for fire 

Derby feat, m satoke a rope. 

httjehtly glowing .las* *j«tnt ami 

-.<!!(. an. .,r..u~<- stealer !tltett».t. 

yard* vthith he followed up with 

Titer* mm a minor that the 

with !tt* «a!!y, off tfame the rest 

the -Heety as*o v..t«i U> ill- 

a fiftwn vard gain throatfa half 

Freshmen iRtr-nd.. ,-i to rebel, but 

oi the haif a««l the convict w« 

iste i'rof, Met. lone to aet a* -see- 

hack. Fuilev easily tnatie bis 

. tb« r»H«g* Itat-f finally been 

greeted with 4ert*jve ebeer*. 

omi facolty aiietser tor the 

gains also »d*a piousrh^ 


t>iie. r«a at-c<Mtflt of he. upb.»!dtB« 

■""'"'*'" n,< * ^"""-"'S' <>« a 

through the litte tor th* distawce 

The fiftieth anniversary of She 

We*h,), l .!j\ tiottoi on ib< fe i..J- 

ss.otid ad user was mat e Bet. •%- 

ne«d«<l. CinweU was s»e»t «y«* 

founding of the university will 

iroti wa* %j*ar«*i tht <)i*gr ai e of 

sarv a* t rof. r erjrtt*t*n Jmtls tt 

tiu> Hb« ftvr the first tmtctidowti. 

be the taa.asT.rn of a jfreat 

having hi* h.ek* ssborn and let 

i m i ...ssi hh.- to attend the i»«i« 

Score, Wesley an 5, XtMrmaf, <*. 

4cwp«*t«*ti«« at Tuft* Eni- 

off aiter «i*$rfayi«« h»* art bj 


Si.-c.ju> Half 

versify. } 'reparation* are now 

s«iO((tajr, *|»eakmg a»4 re.itint;. 

Normal kiekeeJ to Wesieran. 

beiasf s*a4« for the r treat. 

Kseharti O't'onne-^ was ?a*t «•<•« 

Y. W. ('. A. 

who ik'fe»d«l th«« e»*t gw»t* 

F, 'j'eaip'.eton terokr tile record 

j{«if»K i« a we-*teri» direction at a 

Y. W, t*. A. wa* held II* their 

MeCuHositfh who recptved tfec 

f«r the twenty vaf! *wtm at the 

,f«e./d that wotiW make a fort v 

haS! was dowsed o« W*M*3M»*» 

Bartfe-tt *i*m" tx»>>l !a*t w«-ek at 

!»<«■«■ {tower .iM'.o fees if.ha«ls»tl of 

hail \i»i«S.»v ..Mern.H.n, Mr*. 
fK-Mf«lte led tii< m.-.-mis. het 

ioitt-five ya.r*f tin*. H*f* 

C!»k-»g« w t« and o«e lifu, 

itvli; and tt»- remarkable manner 

I hi h>n am! lirttt<t*w »f Sorwai 

-<«»«»)« wbscb H ./oiy mwUUM 

tn *!it. h he mad.- }»(ii-..ei! *e,er. r 

s«h)ei;t hrt«r, "The New 

did mw tine tackling »»d Wim- 

M-^mti belts ««J the mrlifi re>>»r< ? 

frr.)«ti-.e....v<-!S!o (I*a< the- wt.itder- 

ifyati *>« tteld ?t>r dttwn*.. 

for that MM. 

the maw-). )4ii. '• 

The sf.,,s.- Y. W. t . A. t*on- 

Hue, Ford. Milkm adv»«c«4 MM 
ball toward* We*)etrM** ip«i« 

Tfee *tt^i!rfH''i ■>! K"1' « 

b»rsf bad tb« ? tS» .» ..,r. of »!(..*■ 

KJ'K* $Af. TO THE \!<<;r"H. 

il.M«mr. ItmlllMtffWftTlmffr 

Weslevan b«* a d«vf.4t«d btracwv 

Th eiSUjre ( .) l.teiR»i>» ra in 

and with !ft« bali ia t w«* yard* of 

Itif tHf (ISflBilCf * <»! illf V>'i.f!t««'-. 

batM»»f» of i he Baiwmt^ The 

a *t«te of ottenw o. «t 

.Us. <J! ««*'i iitHSat, s«. 

ttieir g-o*U *'^ I** ** r ^ {d»ajp»i 

M |l*»« R,M s.M.ed b,s 

itl the heavy Norwal tekW» 
Met «l!ou«b j««t«d to SSHratM* 

' > .,; , , 

who sarrted the fe*H te» W«"*f«*3r» 

* vm«iiM% »\ l»«Sf»!*afg a»i 

7"/ie first broadsheet— 1904 Argus front page. 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 18 

The Argus' interest in maintaining an East-Midwest connection (established 
in pit- Argus publications) often enabled it to feature more sensational news than 
could be found in Bloomington, as reported in this October 7, 1904 exchange 
column: "Arthur D. Wyman, an instructor in the chemical laboratory of Harvard 
University, died from injuries sustained by being run down by an automobile. 
The owner of the automobile was arrested, charged with manslaughter and was 
released on bail." Articles on Harvard and other Ivy League schools appeared in 
almost every issue, as if to suggest to students that their own education here in 
the Midwest was somehow connected. 

The new Argus not only read like a newspaper, but it also looked like one. 
The editorial board expanded pages to 11x17 1/2 inches with four columns of 
copy on each page. The change allowed editors to rank important news at the 
tops of pages and less important news at the bottom. The staff apparently felt 
news from other colleges was important enough to "lead" with and typically ran 
such news in the first column. Local campus stories on increased chapel atten- 
dance, the results of the previous week's debate or fraternity and sorority activi- 
ties followed in columns two and three. Sports news such as the "Lit versus 
Law" school student football game appeared in column four. "One of the most 
spirited games of football played this fall on Wilder Field was the Law-Lit con- 
test," wrote the November 25, 1905 Argus. "Both sides played to win and the 
score 12 to in the lawyers favor, does not show the real fight." 

Editors relegated minor campus notes and news briefs to the inside pages: 
"there really is to be a band, in fact, there already is one" (January 12, 1906), 
"Elizabeth Rowe was a Wesleyan visitor on Tuesday" (January 12, 1906) and, of 
course, "Have YOU paid your subscription?" (December 10, 1906). If an inch of 
space needed to be filled, editors resorted to pre-Argus tricks and inserted a joke: 
'A man told me the other day that I looked like you.' 
'Where is he? I would like to punch him.' 
T killed him.' (January 25, 1907) 

The Argus' format changes forced the staff to leave the university press for 
the newspaper's business manager, Bert E. Hempstead ('06), who printed the 
broadsheet at 109 E. Washington St., according to the masthead. When 
Hempstead graduated from Wesleyan, The Bloomington Printing and Stationary 
Company took over the printing for 1906-07 academic year. In 1907-08, the 
newspaper's nameplate changed from The Wesleyan Argus to Illinois Wesleyan 
Argus, and the format switched to eight 9x12 1/2-inch pages. In 1908-09, the 
newspaper switched back to the original bi-weekly magazine style format, with a 
cover and stapled pages. 

Despite the changes, the paper still gave students their dollar's worth by 
extending its length from 16 to 24 pages — the most in Argus history. News sto- 
ries and essays still shared the front page with football game stories and included 
such hard news as this October 29, 1912 story: 

Beyond a doubt the library is now in its best shape it has ever been, 
within the memory of the present corps of students. Some students 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 19 

didn't know that we had a library ... It is not very large and is sadly 

lacking in the essentials of a reference library, but due to the efficient 

services of Miss Sinclair, what there is, is now on tap. 

World War I resulted in a shift in contents, with the Argus devoting at least 

four pages to war coverage in every issue. Stories updating the status of 

Wesleyan students serving overseas ran alongside essays on "Compulsory 

Military Education" and "Food and the World War." 

1921: No More Covers — The Newspaper Era Begins 

In 1921, The Argus decided to become strictly a newspaper once and for all, 
adopting a 10x13 1/2 broadsheet format with four columns of copy per page. 
Editors phased oratory and short stories out of the newspaper for good, except 
for running a literary supplement each year which featured student poetry, short 
stories and essays. In 1961, Wesleyan's first continuous literary magazine, the 
Black Book, made such supplements obsolete. 

While the news was "newsier" during this era, if the editors' ranking of sto- 
ries is any indicator of student interest, then the Wesleyan community was more 
concerned about campus "rah-rah" than serious subjects. In 1921, for example, 
the staff ran a huge headline for the basketball game story, "Wesleyan Wins Over 
Bradley 27-15," but only included a few paragraphs to inform the campus that 
the "Phi Gam House [was] Destroyed By Fire" or report that "Elizabeth Haley 
Dies Of Pneumonia." 

Presser Hall (1930), site of many concerts and convocations, including fhe lafest alumni 
recital by Dawn Upshaw, a Grammy-winning soprano for the New York Metropolitan 
Opera, on September 24, 7 989. 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 20 

Volume XXV III 

Wesley/an sod Normal 




CoKHsKSenmjj; "E*js*n«xe" *» One of 

the Play* «o he Given This 




December 2, 1921 

Through Thaoksgi?iog Day Battle Without Scoring 











ri'D! N'l FK!1;N!iSI!II> fund 

:• ■,-,;: ./,, 

\V..f4 *a* r* 

C«m**ttnr*J «« p*<S< ? 

gi which 

..n<\ i.larH th« 

\llton nu<3« 

:«« thr.m«h the 

(K»IV pl»yrd the 

7he 7927 Argus abandoned magazine format and featured a classy photo nameplate. 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 21 

It is possible that Clarence A. Burner's Normalite newspaper press printed 
the 1921 Argus, which had a flashy photo "flag" featuring a picture of the cam- 
pus in the background and "The Wesleyan Argus" printed in the foreground. But 
no records exist in the Illinois Wesleyan University archives which would con- 
firm this, and the Normalite 's business records were destroyed in a 1983 fire. 
Richard J. Finfgeld ('27), a former Argus sports editor, recalls going to Burner's 
print shop during his freshman year, so it is certain that Burner printed The 
Argus from at least 1923 to 1932. 

As the 1920s roared on, so did Wesleyan's newspaper, which reported the 
university's own era of prosperity. The university laid cornerstones for 
Memorial Gym in 1921, Buck Library in 1922 and Presser Hall in 1929. In 
addition to these large-scale building projects, the paper also covered smaller- 
scale endeavors, such as when "the largest Wesleyana on record" had gone to 
press (April 22, 1927) or when "One Hundred Fifty New Volumes Appear On 
Library Shelves" (September 30, 1926). Given the October 3, 1928 article 
"Mighty Midnight Spectacle Part of Wesleyan Tradition," the city of 
Bloomington was transformed into something out of F. Scott Fitzgerald's 1920s 
novel, The Great Gatsby: 

All traffic on Main Street will stop — whether or not car owners desire to 
do so. The street cars will run after-a-fashion ... the milling mob will 
propel its way through the business section to the very doors of the court 
house [where] the school songs will awaken loyal surgings within every 
student's heart. The procession will then wend its way back to the uni- 
versity for this new feature of this old tradition. A mighty bonfire will 
be built upon the campus, one that will lift high its fiery beacon as in 
defiance to all who would say Wesleyan is not the best. 
With the more newspaperish look, the staff officially shortened the newspa- 
per's name from Illinois Wesleyan Argus to The Argus in 1923 and shifted back 
to a weekly publication. Two-to five-paragraph editorials on topics such as the 
resurgence of women, student regulations and Wesleyan's examination system 
appeared on page four, with varsity and intramural sports on pages six and seven 
of each eight-page issue. Wesleyan football and basketball games were viewed 
with particular excitement, IWU suited up against well-known schools such as as 
DePaul, Illinois, Notre Dame and Michigan State. 

Full-length feature articles on people, places or events also appeared in the 
late 1920's. Some features focused on the more interesting personality traits of 
Wesleyan faculty members. For example, the December 12, 1928 issue told of 
the wrestling abilities of speech professor Alfred A. Hopkins, who held the unof- 
ficial championship of the state of New Hampshire. Other features had a national 
and international flavor, including "Rhodes Scholars Are Popular Respected, 
Successful At Oxford," "Survey Of College Man's Styles In Five Universities 
Shows Common Tendencies In Selection Of Spring Outfits" and "Europe Is 
Summer Attraction To Students During Vacation." The February 16, 1928 arti- 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 22 

cle, "Natives Of India Want Christ, But Not Sects," is another example of a clas- 
sic feature : 

They [the Indians] love an automobile. Some of them will drop their 

bundle and run in to the jungles, where they peek out from under the 

trees when they see it coming. . . . More often, they come up to it, turn 

on the lights and giggle. . . . They feel the need of some higher power, 

and to satisfy this need, they worship even a piece of string or a stone. 

Such features allowed the newspaper to expand to a world beyond Wesley an. In 

fact, during the 1920s the newspaper extended beyond the school year as well, 

publishing the Baby Argus one summer. Sizably smaller, the 1926 Baby Argus 

kept students informed of such "issues" as the latest temperatures during 

Bloomington's hot summer months. 

With the 1930s came an Argus that retreated from the outside world and 
focused on campus events. Stories on campus speakers (who were usually visit- 
ing professors from other universities), debate, football and basketball teams, 
and Greek organizations dominated page one. In fact, Greek life was so impor- 
tant that the May 4, 1932 front page headlined with "Sigma Kappas and Phi 
Gams Cop Honors In Annual Stunt Show: Large And Enthusiastic Crowd 
Applauds Greek Letter Event." Given the description of the winning Phi Gam 
stunt, entitled "Resurrection," Wesley an students worked just as hard to prepare 
for social contests as they did on their classwork: 

The hall was completely darkened and slowly the head of the "corpse," 

phosphorous illuminated, rose over the edge of the coffin. At the same time 

a cold wind blew over the audience as the smell of dead flowers floated out. 

Slowly the figure, Harry Fagerburg, began a dance, which gradually became 

wilder and in which the 'corpse' was joined by other figures. ... A skull 

floated over the audience amid the shrieks of the audience. 

Staffs also came up with feature stories on subjects ranging from ancient 

pianos to third-party politics. One entitled "What Do The Wesley an Janitors 

Think of Us" told how five janitors described Wesley an students as "a fine 

group." "I think we have a very wise group of students at Wesleyan this year," 

said one janitor. "The students appear to be quite serious in their desire in the 

fact that thus far, they have not destroyed or damaged any property" (February 

24, 1932). Another feature, "Former Student Leaders Relate Western Thrills," 

(December 17, 1936), reported Harold Livingston's ('36) and John LaMonica's 

('36) 600-mile hitch-hiking trip to the Pacific coast. 

Under the editorship of Charles Virgil Martin ('32), The Argus underwent 
complete sectional re-organization. "When people read the newspaper, I wanted 
it to be in pragmatic condition — meaning stories were reasonably organized," 
said Martin, the oldest former editor alive at the time of the centennial. "There 
was some resistance on the part of the staff who wanted to do things the old way, 
but I couldn't stand seeing stories blend into each other." 

After the front page, the staff grouped arts, music and an occasional book 
review into a section entitled "The Wesleyan Muse" on page two. Page three 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 23 




«>»!<*< an M.H- • ...... .. .. . .■«, ^ramf Opera At 

Feat ii n* <*«li 

"<4tniM'*»" IVrM'itlrtl '! « . f- t j s ?h j r , v ,t "¥ m * Uhi<-a"o: On Air 
FntliUMii-'tir Aii«firiic«* I fMign Priw - 


ffi*a«* H inner 
Of Fellowship 

At I'- of Clark 

C>i me- Student* 

Are ^ i*ltc>r* ai 


Cmn:ett Mav I 

Ontrai 111 
iiirl?* Attend 

Women** Dm 

^■ritfi-r. Ma— Of *7I 7VII* Of StImmiI Dat* 

The largest front page in Argus h/story (1933-34). 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 24 

contained dance and wedding information, while "Society" and "Social" sections 
on Greek organizations featured such news as "Paul Hensel entertained a group 
of friends last Saturday evening at the Sig House. A discussion on literature was 
the subject of the gathering" (December 15, 1931). Two or three editorials, a 
personals section entitled "Rah Stuff and letters to the editor occupied page 
four, with more campus-oriented announcements and feature stories on page 
five. "Sports" dominated pages six and seven, while the back page featured 
jumps from page one and a gossip column entitled "Hanz Heckles," which 
included a "weakly poem:" 

She doesn't wear paint; she doesn't wear rouge; 

She doesn't smoke, she doesn't booze; 

She doesn't kiss, she doesn't pet; 

She's 58 and single yet. (January 6, 1932) 
Obviously, political correctness was not yet a journalistic concern. 

Perhaps the most welcome change in the stylistic history of The Argus came 
in 1933, when Gummerman Printing Office (known then as Journal Job Printing) 
started printing the newspaper under the watchful eyes of John Gummerman and 
his son, Bernard ('31). From 1933 to 1972, Gummerman's linotype machine 
typeset 39 volumes of The Argus while a manual flatbed press did the inking. 
After the flatbed press became obsolete in 1965, Gummerman's used a huge 
Goss Cox-O-Type Web press to print the newspaper. But the advent of the offset 
press just seven years later came so suddenly that Bernie didn't even bother to 
remove the final May 5, 1972 Argus from the middle of the Web. It remained 
there until the press was sold at auction in September of 1993, when 
Gummerman's finally closed its doors. 

Not only does Gummerman's hold the record for printing The Argus for the 
longest period of time (60 years), but it also printed the largest Argus page in 
history — a 14x34-inch giant for the four-page issues of 1934. Vertical lines sep- 
arated six columns of copy, and at least one headline per issue ran across an 
entire page. 

Although life at Wesleyan was, at first, apparently unaffected by the 
Depression, hard times did catch up with the campus in the latter half of the 
1930s. The Argus ran no more than four or five photographs an issue during the 
1920s, and that number dwindled to one or zero by 1937. Charlotte Fitzhenry 
Robling ('38), editor during 1937-38, summed up the photo situation when she 
said, "I think we would have had more pictures if we could have afforded a cam- 
era." Most of the photographs The Argus printed came courtesy of The Daily 
Pantagraph, Bloomington's local newspaper. 

Despite hard times, The Argus reported that Wesleyan students engaged in 
the same carefree college activities as always. A college education during this 
era was a luxury, and optimism for a better future won out over doom and 
gloom. Pep rallies and Homecoming stories became front-page fixtures as the 
decade evolved. The newspaper also devoted a large amount of space to plays 
and musicals. For example, the March 21, 1936 front page article, "Critics Laud 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 25 

r Wwtw AnrTTfi 

M nli rmlEijrlJiS 

iliisMdn Wesleyan University 

i^tin wi™, - 'Messiah' Presentation December 12 

>peeialist io 
Give lecture 

Subject Of Talk 

0r, Jnman ;;,-»., 

fa&rW* CHseheng**?- 

| 'Dish' Is Former 
; Commercial Artist, 

Baseball Player 

On bvhaii Off the students, the faculty, the alumni, the 
' Joint Board of Trustees and Official Visi'ors, and She friends 
; of Illinois Westeyan University, I Hereby dedicate this Service 
| Flag ia honor oi the men and women of Illinois Wesieyan 
University who are serving its the armed forces of their 
i country and in revereni memory of those who have made 
I the supreme sacrifice and have already joined the roster of 
| the Iru-mortai. With this dedication we, with ever deepening 
I devotion, pledge anew oar allegiance Io those ideals of free- 
| dom, JasiSe©, and brotherhood which our nation has ever up- 
! held, and oaraesiiy do we- pray for the coming of the day of 
j peace on earth and goodwill among men, 

W. E. Shaw 

Students Receive Degrees, 
Flag Dedicated In Chapel 


► P 








liargreaves On 5 
Music Board * 

Contest On Song 
Writing Open 
To Students 

Deecml>er 7, 1941 

0t«mlxT7, if. 

miay, Am«- 
fc*f She rot 

was fighting 
ay dinner of 
baketl pota- 
» iatces She 

What Students 
I Do Elsewhere 

nor. The 

>u on sorac impor- 
pertateaag to the 

,' the stadents of 
ntiblSsfted weekly. 

93rd Birthday 
'" Celebrated 

md planned oy the «t»» 

-• ■ ■ > ■ a < - taid* a *s~ 
sonaf period weekly and OMqf 
■I that the attendant?* te M< 
thl» year than in pamtam 
irx Each w***«thw» is A <ttt» 
«st speaJter. The saeaJset* »** 
:>»n from the stadem !»<{*. 

/Tie 50fh anniversary year (1943-44). 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 26 

Play, Outward Bound," not only gave a summary of the play, but also included 
comments from John Corbin, a critic for The New York Times. Throughout the 
rest of the decade, it was common to see bold headlines such as "VODVIL [sic] 

Students' carefree attitudes continued in the early 1940s. In September 1941, 
less than two weeks after three U.S. ships were attacked and President Roosevelt 
issued "shoot-on-sight" orders to the U.S. Navy in American defense waters, The 
Argus devoted a full-page story listing the pledges of every Greek organization 
on campus, along with a picture of each organization's pledge pin. 

But quickly, World War II forced The Argus to replace such feature stories 
with war speaker stories and information on alumni and students serving over- 
seas. The newspaper also acted as a communication link between the front and 
the campus, printing letters from soldiers and providing students with their over- 
seas addresses. Social news (mostly pictures of Wesleyan "coeds" in wedding 
dresses) continued, as did a reduced Hanz-Heklish social gossip column entitled 
"Bee-Witcher." Despite the high number of men joining the service, Navy avia- 
tion cadets bivouacked at Wesleyan kept the middle pages full of sports news, 
while an increased number of editorials on page two encouraged students to buy 
war bonds and join Red Cross war activities. 

Lighthearted student opinion polls occasionally ran during the early 1940s to 
ease the tensions of war. Some of the questions included, "Do you get a bang out 
of college?" "What's wrong with men?" and "What would you do if you had an 
extra nickel?" However, lighthearted material sometimes turned into ignorance, 
especially when The Argus printed a few racist jokes, such as: 

A colored country preacher, who was strong on visiting the female mem- 
bers of his flock, was traveling along the road to the house of one of his 
flock when he met the small son of the lady members. 

"Where's your maw?" 

"She's home." 

"Where's your paw?" 

"He's home." 

"Tell 'em 'howdy' fuh me." (April 24, 1944) 
None of Wesleyan's all-white student body responded with a letter to the editor 
in following issues. 

Although this joke indicates that some form of racism explicitly existed on 
campus during the 1940s, an October 8, 1947 page two article, "Students Protest 
Discrimination Policy Of Normal Restaurant," told how students from both 
Wesleyan and Illinois State Normal picketed the Pilgrim restaurant in Normal for 
not admitting black students. "Contrary to what they called 'unfair accusations,' 
members of the picket force denied that the Pilgrim is being used for a 'goat' 
while other eating places in this area discriminate," The Argus wrote. The picket 
served its purpose, as black students were admitted to the restaurant soon after, 
according to 1947-48 editor Bob Holmes ('48). 

As postwar prosperity set in across the nation, a number of famous people 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 27 

appeared in The Argus, including Senator J.W. Fulbright, who spoke at Presser 
Hall in 1946, poet Langston Hughes, who spoke at a Bloomington-Normal com- 
munity forum in 1945 and Metropolitan Opera star Helen Traubel, who per- 
formed at the Scottish Rite Temple in 1946. 

An Era of Stability 

One positive advancement the newspaper made during the postwar years 
was with photography, as editors ran anywhere from six to 12 pictures per issue 
during the era. Photos reached new heights in 1948, according to 1948-49 editor 
Alice Stanbery ('49). "It's not like we had any more pictures than issues before 
us, but we just had some wonderful photographers," she said. One of those 
included Norman Kerr ('52), who now works as the creative director of photog- 
raphy for Eastman Kodak Company. 

Between 1947 and 1960, The Argus averaged ten pages an issue, with the 
smallest containing four pages and the largest 20. The newspaper continued to 
cover campus events, including the opening of the Memorial Student Center's 
Center Grill in 1947 (it was later renamed the Dug Out), the 1949 campus carni- 
val, the 1951 chest x-ray drive (to fight those nasty winter colds) and the con- 
struction of a "new men's dormitory" (Dolan Hall) in 1955. 

Stories seldom exceeded five inches, and the shorter treatment allowed edi- 
tors to print more stories on each page. The front page of the October 7, 1953 
Argus displayed eight stories: "Fall Enrollment Reaches 700; Figures Above 
Last Year," "Titan Council Releases Call For New Members," "Football Band 
Gives Halftime Shows," "Wesleyan Receives Research Grant," "IWU Parents 
Day Sunday, October 11," "Student Union Selects Cheerleaders for '53-'54," 
"October 13 Date for Class Primary Elections" and "Anderson to Present Organ 
Recital." In addition, the front page also had five "Notices," or news briefs, 
announcing campus information, as well as photographs of the band and cheer- 
leaders — all on a single 11 1/2x1 6-inch page, which had been implemented by 
Gummerman Printing in 1937. 

Editorials, which appeared on page two, ranged from national subjects like 
The Argus-advocated 1955 nationwide "church attendance crusade" to more 
campus-related issues like student government decisions, the negative effects of 
cheating and an occasional plea for new Argus staff members. The old, reliable 
sections — features, music, art, social news and personals — remained largely 
unchanged from their pre-war days and ran on different pages each week. 

Sports news, which dominated as many as three pages during the 1930s, 
occupied only one page an issue during the 1950s, except, of course, when 
Wesleyan battled its cross-town rival, Illinois State Normal. With the exception 
of a few stories denouncing the Korean War, the newspaper had a personality 
similar to Wally and Beaver Cleaver — wholesome, clean cut and conforming 
with the conservative nature of the campus. The staff even put in extra hours 
during the summer to produce issues that, according to former editor Art 
Schmittler ('54), were mailed to incoming and returning students "to inform 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 28 

them of registration times, scheduling changes and other types of administrative 

From 1957-62, feature stories on faculty members and administrators fre- 
quently appeared on the inside pages of the newspaper. But two weeks before 
John F. Kennedy was elected to office, hints of what would eventually turn into 
student unrest began to appear in The Argus. In a special homecoming issue, 
read by scores of returning alumni, editors gave prominent back-page placement 
to a story which asked students, "Are You Receiving A Good Education?" One 
senior English major responded, "sometimes I've learned more during a half 
hour's conversation [at the Grill] than during a Chapel service or during an hour 
in class." But even that student added, "Remember — I said sometimes." 

The 1960s: Wesleyan in its True Light 

Like other college newspapers, The Argus became caught up in the social 
turmoil of the late 1960s and early 1970s. A September 19, 1969 editorial pro- 
claimed that 

In the first issue of The Argus, Sept. 17, 1894, the staff promised to pub- 
lish "a paper which will be loyal to the university and to the students," 
one which would "present our excellent school in the very best light." 
Today, Sept. 19, 1969, The Argus editorial staff seeks to present the uni- 
versity in its true light, whether it is functioning well or badly. 

And when Allan O. Pfnister, a consultant hired to assist the university in the 
study and correction of weaknesses, reported that "the basic administrative orga- 
nization structure has not changed appreciably," the newspaper headlined the 
story "Consultant reports lack of change" on November 21, 1969. "The divi- 
sional organization of the college of liberal arts still lacks definition of function," 
Pfnister wrote in a report to the administration obtained by The Argus. "In a uni- 
versity with such strong professional programs one would expect to find an 
equally strong liberal arts emphasis." 

In the spirit of new investigative journalism, all Argus stories extended to an 
average length of 10 inches. Now the average front page carried articles like 
"Bertholf announces July 1968 retirement," "Tuition rises $175 in new budget" 
and "Board allots leaves, tenure; advances ranks of seven." On the surface, these 
stories may seem mundane, but Argus staffs did not report tuition increases or 
decisions made by the Board of Trustees prior to the 1960s. In addition to uni- 
versity news, the newspaper went out of its way to report turbulent issues such as 
the Vietnam War, civil rights movement and campus protest. Argus staff writers 
tried to bring this national news more relevant by, somehow, tying it to a situa- 
tion at Wesleyan. (News coverage during the 19 will be examined in greater 
detail in subsequent chapters.) 

In addition to more hard news, the newspaper covered famous people who 
spoke at Wesleyan, including Senator Everett Dirksen, who spoke at IWU's 
109th commencement, astronaut Frank Borman (who laid the cornerstone for 
Mark Evans Observatory in March, 1969), poet Allen Ginsberg, Vice President 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 29 



C# iy 


Moomin^tem, Ittim** *t70t, Friday, b^mitef 26, l**9 

Presidents, chaplain probe 
earth problems, solutions 

TH6 CHAPtAlfi 

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udents to raise money 

CamRdates in class elections 
prepare far October contests 

Trvstees to consider revision 

Mtn~$$ twi% 4m 

t'Hi'-.-p.*. for at! Haw off.«-r« 

sfart><! 65 &?»»«•<; tt> ti«> Ixm 

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sign up for as iiMemew wftfe 

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T and final aggettttftt will tato 

A typical late 1960s front page. 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 30 


Hubert H. Humphrey, civil rights activist Fred Hampton, social reformist and 
author Michael Harrington, and poet Gwendolyn Brooks. The paper publicized 
campus concerts featuring popular sixties groups such as the Shirelles, Peter and 
Gordon, Spanky and Our Gang and The Flying Burrito Brothers. 

Columns written under the pseudonyms "The Gadfly," and "Charles Martel" 
allowed students to anonymously voice opinions about the administration, student 
government, women's hours policy, the Greek system and alcohol policy. By 
1969, an outside subscription to The Argus cost $5 — only a $4 increase since 1894. 
In 1973, The Argus survived another major change, with editor Thomas St. 
John ('75) reporting that a "lack of trees" and a Canadian railroad strike resulted 
in The Argus switching from traditional newsprint to more expensive, high-quali- 
ty paper. Even The Pantagraph "felt the pinch of the strike this summer when 
they almost ran out of paper," according to St. John's editorial. His prediction 
that The Argus would probably never come out on newsprint again held true 
through the Gummerman era. 

During the late 1970s, The Argus covered the university's surprisingly 
smooth implementation of co-ed living units. After the university "experiment- 
ed" with co-ed housing at Gulick Hall in 1974-75, the March 19, 1976 Argus 

announced that Dodds Hall, for- 
merly a men's dormitory, would 
become Wesleyan's other co-ed 
living unit in the 1976-77 school 
year. "No one got upset with the 
Gulick Hall experiment," The 
Argus wrote, adding that Dodds' 
eight-person suite living units 
were even more "conducive to 
the housing of both men and 
women" than Gulick's regular 
two-person rooms. Dodds and 
Gulick remain IWU's only co-ed 
dorms as of the 1993-94 school 

The 1980s and 1990s: Trying 
to Break the Bubble 

Editors organized the eight to 
16-page issues of the 1980s 
Argus in the same way as C. 
Virgil Martin's 1931-32 staff. In 
addition to running campus-cen- 
tered stories on Student Senate 
meetings, faculty meetings, con- 
certs, theatre performances, 


False tire alarms threaten safety of reside! 


Forums discuss problem 
of date rape on campus 

J: Anderson plans to hold discussion at senate meeting -pSaS* ! : 

In the 1980s, The Argus was "Devoted to the concept 
of free press. " 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 31 

The Argus 

::.■..■■.■■.:'.'■■■■"./■'■'■''• ; ■', y^/mri: yy^y--^ ■ - ■ - . ■ -:',^;y,M- ■'■ . ym-:m ■ 


Bush's policies scrutinized during debate 


Racism seminar stresses acceptance 
appreciation among ethic groupings 

Women's issues separate party platforms 

Chaffed f*e» 

campus speakers and construc- 
tion, the paper perpetuated the 
"Wesleyan bubble" theory — 
"that sense of isolation from the 
rest of the civilized world. . . . 
[I]n Bloomington-Normal 
there's nowhere to go, nothing to 
do, and everyone goes to sleep at 
8 p.m."(September 13, 1991). 
Given that the greatest percent- 
age of Wesleyan's student body 
hailed from the Chicago area in 
the 1980s, it's no shock that stu- 
dents have felt trapped in 
Wesleyan's stable and consider- 
ably less urban environment. 

The center spread — a series 
of related articles with pho- 
tographs or graphics in the mid- 
dle of the newspaper — gave edi- 
tors the opportunity to break the 
Wesleyan bubble with expanded 
national and international news 
stories since the early 1980s. 
The February 15, 1985 Argus 
featured a center spread on 

South African apartheid with articles on three speakers who lectured at Wesleyan 
and Illinois State University during the week. "The Black population may have 
little chance against the South African authorities," wrote staff writer Kelly 
Gaskins ('88). "The police force which numbers some 47,000 and the Army 
containing 85,000 have succeeded in maintaining control over some 23 million 

Likewise, staff writer Andrette Brown's ('89) March 3, 1989 speaker story 
on civil rights author James Meredith told of his 1962 struggle to enroll at the 
University of Mississippi. His personal struggle escalated into a "mini-civil war 
between 400 federal marshals and some 17,000 national guardsmen called to the 
scene by president John F. Kennedy." In other parts of his address, Meredith 
advised that "blacks must take control of their families, schools and communi- 
ties" if they are ever to achieve racial equality. Shirley Chisholm, the first black 
woman elected to Congress, related a similar story of overcoming racial barriers 
when she spoke at the 1988 President's Convocation. 

News editor John Snyder ('91) reported Illinois Governor Jim Edgar's 
speech at the 1991 IWU Founders' Day Convocation. The newly elected Edgar 

The Argus of the 1990s 

Chapter 2 Evolution of The Argus 32 

focused "chiefly on the importance of education in Illinois and his intent to be 
'the education governor'" (February 22, 1991). Edgar also said that increased 
educational opportunities could be reached '"without a lot of extra money,' per- 
ceiving the advancement of education as a 'common goal for a common good.'" 

During this era, the "Opinion" pages mirrored the front pages, offering added 
perspective. Inside pages contained the "Arts and Entertainment" section, which 
included book and movie reviews, while "Sports" took over the back two to 
three pages of every issue. Feature articles during this period reflect the national 
pre-occupation with self-improvement and extended equal rights in all areas. 
Some topics covered diet tips, stress management, Habitat for Humanity pro- 
jects, bulimia, and Black Student Union activities. 

The evolution of The Argus from a literary journal to a newspaper, and then 
to a newspaper that covered both campus and national issues, has reflected a 
change in campus personality from rah-rah to real world. Even Argus subscrip- 
tion rate increases have reflected the economic signs of the times with costs 
tripling in the past 25 years. (Costs rose to $8 in 1981, $14 in 1984 and stand at 
$21 for the 1993-94 school year.) Despite five wars, one depression and a 
national paper shortage, the newspaper has not ceased publication for 100 years. 
Love it or hate it, The Argus has been, and will always be, watching and report- 
ing Wesley an news. 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 33 


Front Page News 

The front page serves as a newspaper's billboard, using its content and style 
to catch readers' attention and pull them into the inside pages. But from the very 
beginning, finding front-page news hasn't been easy for Argus editors. An 1898 
editorial complained that "The editors of the different departments have at times 
found it very difficult to secure material to fill the columns of the paper, let alone 
procuring such material that would not only interest its readers but also add cred- 
it to the paper itself (December 1). 

The fact that The Argus has not been the most earth-shaking college newspa- 
per reflects the stable nature of the Wesleyan campus. As late as the 1950s, 
"Wesleyan was a lot smaller and was more of a family operation" — including 
The Argus, according to 1952-53 editor Jim Ridenour ('54). Alice Stanbery, 
1948-49 editor, added, "We didn't have any controversies with anybody, but then 
again we weren't really radical individuals." 

No News Is Good News 

Other editors and the front pages themselves confirm that until the mid- 
1960s, no Argus staff was terribly radical or reform-oriented. Until then, much 
of The Argus front-page matter was informational, including administrative pro- 
nouncements on how students should behave, when they were to attend classes, 
and when tuition was to be paid. Student writers even praised the value of listen- 
ing to administrators, as this May 15, 1899 article on chapel conduct illustrates: 
"It is not only discourteous to the faculty, but it is also an indication of bad 
breeding for any one so to conduct himself during the chapel hour as to make 
himself obnoxious and a nuisance to those about him." 

For all their concern, editors from the 1 890s followed in the tradition of pre- 
Argus publications, devoting their front pages exclusively to literary criticism, 
translations, poems and scientific essays. If it was hard to find material, it was 
only because the material was scholarly and undoubtedly took time to research 
and write — as with Professor W.A. Heidel's essay on "The Poems of William 
Watson," which appeared in the January 14, 1895 issue, or the French translation 
of "The Pope's Mule" that greeted readers on the front page of the March 25, 
1895 Argus. Even more striking were two issues published that year which 
devoted the entire front page to a single poem. 

In attempts to fill the front page with newsworthy events, editors have, at 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 34 

times, opted for the lighter side of coverage. Fluff articles on the news pages 
appeared from the beginning of The Argus, when editors chose to print stories 
that were more interesting than influential. 

Early front pages emphasized Greek life and social news, featuring such 
headlines as "Silence is last straw in pledge life" and "Barbecue successful as 
new innovation for homecoming." But the social scene was not limited to the 
Greek system. The biggest competition was based not on Greek/independent 
relations, but on class loyalty. In 1904, editors chose to amuse their readers by 
reporting freshmen initiation rituals in "Shear the Freshmen." When "a large 
crowd of upper classmen assembled to act as a reception committee for the 
Freshmen," the lower classmen were hardly receptive. Upperclassmen not only 
shaved the freshmen's heads, but also forced them to sing, dance and utterly 
humiliate themselves. One eyewitness told The Argus: 

I was caught and carried along in the jam and finally landed dazed and 
blinking at the top of the chapel stairs. I saw a mass of moving figures 
in the dim light and saw Brian holding the center of the stage while a 
husky bruiser gloated over his prey and menacingly wielded a large pair 
of sheep shears with which he proceeded to remove his raven locks in a 
manner that showed former training along a tonsorial line. 'Aw don't 
fellows' pleaded the victim, but his words were greeted with a hoarse 
and grating laughter and only added fuel to the already brightly glowing 
class spirit. (November 4, 1904) 
Another article in the same issue described the desperate flight of a hazed fresh- 
man who was seen "at a clip seldom seen in this region where a ten second man 
is a rarity." The young man apparently had been "assailed" by an upperclassman 
on the way to a freshman mixer and kept running until he was spotted in the 
nearby town of Dan vers. 

Freshmen seemed to carry the heaviest burden when it came to social tradi- 
tions. The November 9, 1910 front page announced the results of yet another 
freshmen defeat in "The Sophomore Colors Still Wave." The contest began 
when the sophomore class placed its class colors at the top of the university's 
flagpole. Freshmen would then try to climb the pole and destroy the sophomore 
flag while sophomores tried to pull their rivals off the pole. The senior class 
acted as referee. The Argus was at the scene: "Time and again the Freshmen had 
a man on the pole only to see him pulled down again by the struggling Sophs. It 
was no dress suit affair not yet a child's game. Few came out of the struggle 
with clothing intact and many had to borrow overcoats to wear home." 

If nothing else, The Argus was consistent with its front-page fluff articles 
through the next decade, often printing marriage announcements and day-to-day 
reminders on page one. The November 24, 1915 edition proclaimed, 
"Thanksgiving: Turkey Day Will Soon Be Here" (as reported, "Some folks have 
already enjoyed that delightful olfactory sensation that is the direct result of aro- 
matic attacks . . .") Next to it ran an untitled article that described yet another 
social event: 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 35 

Ever since the beginning of the school year the dorm girls have talked 
hopelessly of owning a Victrola, and when they have given up the idea 
in despair and endeavored to find substitutes, always have they failed in 
a 'supply of male voices . . .'" But one night last week, the missing link 
turned up for four worthy gentlemen serenaded the inhabitants of Kemp 
Hall for about half an hour with various and sundry popularans. 
Later, such lighter articles were replaced with news of World War I. However, 
after the war the focus of front-page stories returned to campus events and col- 
lege trends. Headlines from the December 16, 1926 front page captured the 
carefree nature of college life in the Roaring Twenties, with this news flash: "No 
Cause To Mourn For Bobbed Heads." It was front page news on November 18, 
1926 that "Silk football pants are the new departure in grid-iron regalia. Head 
coach Jimmy Phelan at Purdue University invented these new sheik breeches 
after developing the idea during the 1925 season." 

An October, 1924 article advertised a mixer which involved boxing and 
wrestling but warned that "here is one time when the women are absolutely 
tabooed," while a 1929 article, "Freshmen Are Too Cocky For Good Of 
Common People," maintained the polarized class structure of previous years. 
More campus traditions hit the front page in the 1920s but, according to The 
Argus, none were as popular as the "pajama trot." As a celebrated homecoming 
tradition, students marched in their pajamas to the Bloomington courthouse 
where they chanted the Wesleyan fight song. This must not have seemed too 
unusual, however, since the only reason it appeared in the October 16, 1929 
issue was because that year's crowd conducted their march in the pouring rain. 

7he campus that never was" (1921) , a popular graphic for Homecoming issues. 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 36 

While more newsworthy articles began to appear in the 1930s, headlines 
such as "Come one and all (dateless) to Xmas dance" and "Argus staff meeting 
to be held today" still managed to find their way onto page one. The front page 
was also used as a space filler in 1933. In the February 16 edition, a student poll 
which began on page two was jumped to (continued on) the front page. The poll 
asked students how the campus could improve. 

Wesley an students weren't the only ones who provided trivial news for the 
front page. The "dog days" of Argus reporting became literally that. As relief 
from the Depression/war news, the life of a fraternity mascot captured the heart 
of the campus. Phi Gamma Delta (FIJI) German shepherd Alpha Deuteron 
(Alphy) appeared in The Argus a total of four times — twice on page one. Alphy 
first gained fame in spring 1937 when President Harold W. McPherson ('06) pre- 
sented her a Doctor of Caninology degree on the steps of Hedding Hall. Alphy 
attended classes by following FIJI members to class and sitting through lectures. 
Only one other such doctorate in Illinois existed at the time. After 13 years of 
living in the FIJI house, Alphy dislocated her hip and had to be put to sleep. Her 
obituary, which appeared in the September 22, 1943 Argus, took up almost one- 
quarter of the front page. The obituary fondly remembered when "at the mention 
of 'Sigma Chi' Alphy would tear down to the basement and hunt for rats." 

The May 4, 1949 front page is a quintessential example of one of The Argus' 
many "slow news days." The most captivating items on the page were a poem 
describing "senior ditch day" and a picture of newly-elected Argus editor Bob 
Gorman ('50) and business manager Vernon Prenzler ('50) with their feet on a 

Page 8 THE ARGUS - Illinois Wesleyan University, Friday, March 8, 1974 


Some men of Sigma Chi Fraternity, which houses some of IWU's finest athletes, indulge in the 
latest campus outdoor sporting craxe. Here, they were providing entertainment for the women of 
Munsell Wednesday night In classic Greek tradition. (See story on page one.) 

The naked truth: streakers at IWU. 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 37 

desk. The lead story, "Androcles To Meet Lion This Week — Duell, Brooks Lead 
Cast For Three Nights," reported the dates, times and names of cast members of 
the weekend production. More insignificant news came in the story "Announce 
Activities For Mother's Day," which featured a picture of Magill Hall counselor 
Mrs. Ralph Williams and a student to whom she played mother throughout the year. 

In 1974, outbreaks of streaking overran the campus. In the March 8, 1974 
story "Streakers make a hit," The Argus devoted a large portion of page one 
(including photos) to a group of Sigma Chi fraternity members who ran naked 
across the quad. However, the Sigs were not the campus' only group to take it 
all off. During one of the fraternity's nude chorus line acts that faced Munsell 
Hall, women danced naked in blackened dorm windows while five nude inde- 
pendents ran past the dorm and eventually disappeared behind the Sheean 
Library. One spectator told The Argus, "It's better than goldfish." 

Other front-page events may not have been as eye-catching as the streakers, 
but they provided an alternative to hard news. "Two girls are locked in room" 
(October 1, 1976) described two Munsell residents who, after a "disappointing" 
biology quiz, slammed their door so hard that it caused a vacuum and jammed 
the door. After 45 minutes the women were freed when Munsell residents 
pushed open the door. 

The issue closest to April 1 has never been a slow news day for The Argus. 
Editors printed special April Fools' issues from the 1920s to the late 1980s, 
when editors feared such issues would be randomly chosen by the Illinois 
College Press Association for annual evaluations. April Fools' issues tradition- 
ally featured random articles that mocked students, faculty and events. The 1925 
issue announced a campus takeover by fleas: 

The other day three men were seen doing some very amazing things; 
some of the things were such that we can't speak of them, but one in par- 
ticular should be mentioned so that our frosh won't start doing the same 
thing . . . [There students] had returned to the days of their monkey 
ancestors and were searching their craniums for fleas . . . ! According to 
all that was observed, the three were enjoying the process very much, 
shouting with glee and jumping around quite often. 
Other headlines in later years announced a meeting between IWU President 
Merrill J. Holmes and President Harry S. Truman, the merger of Wesleyan and 
ISU and "Pfeiffer couples pair up; IWU tries co-ed living." April Fools' issues 
usually changed the newspaper's title as well. The Angus appeared in the mid- 
1980s and reported a violent cow riot. The Arcacia (1984) mocked the cafeteria, 
the Greek system and selected administrators. 

"Hard" News: Harder to Come By 

Of course, the history of The Argus has not been solely one of slow news 
days. From 1914 through 1946, the newspaper reported Wesley an's reaction to 
the World Wars and Great Depression. It also reported significant campus 
events, including the Hedding Hall fire and a plan to move the campus from 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 38 



The Argus 



Fifteen Lives Are Lost in Observatory Fire 

Robbers Steal Hard- Won Coin 

From President of University 

*:.*; T. T mANN y j$ ATTEMPTED 


NEW musk; school building 



mmm discover t 


.,, The xix?v* picture vi tttt ikw tnutit: mhxxA t* matte ptawiMr be- 

tM tout- • < * M ** ** ,:h * •°* 1 °* &** 809 % f*"*. »*»«$*<». 1« emfeodMs «*s»y 
«>t'«t .,«•» features wt*k:h wilt mak? '■< tlir W« <>i >«« U"|>«- '« "'-«• UoitH St»«e*. 
mi | Cat » «8jit»«»e<j <m p*g* 5, 

SrtW is Discovered in Raid; Rainy Days Predicted 

WhUk Z WaSted0n Gr ° Und For ni «*°* Wesleyan 



Musk School Witt Be 

Of Brick instruction 


Wins Prize as Best-Dressed 

Man on Wesleyan Cam put 


For the 1928 April Fool's issue, editors used a blank space to suggest when the new music 
building would be built. 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 39 

Bloomington. During the 1960s and 1970s, editors focused on Student Senate 
politics and debates over such things as women's curfew hours and the alcohol 
policy. A grade-changing scandal even rocked the campus during the early 
1980s. National events covered by The Argus included the civil rights move- 
ment, campus protest, national political races and homosexual rights. 

Campus construction and acquisition of new property have traditionally been 
big with Argus readers. That explains the show of emotion when the April 27, 
1906 issue reported that philanthropist Andrew Carnegie donated $30,000 to 
complete a $100,000 campaign to build and equip a new science hall. The cam- 
pus responded with "the greatest demonstration of enthusiasm ever seen in 
Bloomington. . . . The parade was five or six blocks long and the enthusiasm 
shown made people realize the interest that has been awakened for Wesleyan." 

Another campus improvement story, which appeared on October 19, 1911 
told how university women were elated at the acquisition of a new women's dor- 
mitory — Kemp Hall: 

It has long been a cherished idea ... to have a place where the girls 
would feel like they were at home and not simply shut up in a prison to 
be watched over continuously. . . . The interior is finished in about thirty 
different kinds of wood and everything else is in perfect keeping with 
elaborate decorations. ... It is heated by city heat and lighted by elec- 
tricity. Other conveniences are the electric elevator; . . . electric ventila- 
tors in every room; speaking tubes, intercommunicating telephones, and 
Despite the conveniences of Kemp, which the university proclaimed on post- 
cards to be "the finest women's dormitory in all the country," an April 1919 
front-page article told how a group of devoted alumni combated an administra- 
tive plan to move "dear old Wesleyan" to Springfield, Illinois. In "Wesleyan 
Remains At Bloomington," The Argus reported that a group of alarmed alumni 
met on April 21, 1919 in order to discuss the plan and form the Wesleyan 
Forward Movement Association, which they hoped would keep the campus per- 
manently in Bloomington. According to The Argus, alumni cited the financial 
generosity of Bloomington-Normal and the general dislike of any other location 
as reasons for keeping Wesleyan in Bloomington: 

Whereas, So much hatred and ill-will would be caused by the attempted 
removal that the old Wesleyan would be practically destroyed, and there 
is no class that is so interested nor would be so vitally affected as its 
alumni by its removal; such action would mean to the alumni the loss of 
their alma mater, and would arouse undying resentment in their hearts. 
The alumni statement was passed on to the Board of Trustees the following 
day. After a debate which lasted over 10 hours, the board chose to keep the uni- 
versity in Bloomington by a vote of 19 to 7. 

However, according to university records, the administration neglected to 
inform The Argus of the financial deal that kept Wesleyan in Bloomington. 
Missing from The Argus report was an account of how the Board of Trustees met 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 40 

with the Bloomington Association of Commerce after the Forward Movement 
debate. The association agreed to raise $600,000 for Wesleyan, provided the 
trustees would leave the university where it was. Eventually, the association 
raised $690,000 for Wesleyan's benefit, allocating the money for operating fees, 
the purchase of adjoining property and a new gymnasium. The final condition 
was met when the cornerstone of Memorial Gym was laid on November 5, 1921. 
Alumni may have been able to keep Wesleyan in Bloomington, but they 
could not save its law school, as page two of the October 1, 1925 Argus reported: 
"For the first time in fifty years, there is no freshman class in the law school of 
the Illinois Wesleyan University this year. . . ." The article described law school 
secretary W.B. Leach's plea for the school's 800 alumni to donate $100,000 so 
that "one of the most famous and most important colleges of the Wesleyan" 
could continue. However, the May 13, 1927 front-page told the campus that 
year's graduating seniors would be the last to receive Bachelor of Laws diplomas 
from Illinois Wesleyan. "Law School Ceases To Exist With New Higher 
Standards" added that the Association of American Law Schools discredited 
IWU's law school because it did not have enough full-time faculty or enough 
volumes in its library. 

During the 1920s, information that would have been considered page-one 
news in other decades was often run on the inside pages. When two students' 
cars collided at Graham and Evans streets, resulting in two cracked windshields, 
bent axles and broken wheels, The Argus reported it on page two. And while 
"pyramid style" reporting was developed during the Civil War, Argus reporters 
saved the most important details for last: "A. Bunch, Bill Fitz, Charles Burgess 
and Graydon Boyd were in the car and several of them were cut about the face 
and hands with flying glass. Miss Angier was unhurt" (November 5, 1924). 
One week later, the paper placed a robbery story on page four, reporting that 
Miss Ann Miller awoke shortly after midnight last Thursday to find 
there was a man in her room. Reaching out her hand suddenly, she 
caught him by the hair and then fully awake, she turned loose a feminine 
whoop that roused the rest of the Lodge. After the yell, the marauder 
made his getaway through a window. (November 12, 1924) 
The newspaper added that the intruder escaped with two dolars, and, "that based 
on the woolly feel of the burglar's hair, it must have been a negro," according to 
Miss Miller. The claim was never substantiated in The Argus. 

When the stock market crashed in October 1929, hard financial times were 
reflected not in stories of Black Monday and the Great Depression, but in an arti- 
cle which asked every IWU student and local business to "donate" a minimum of 
$25 in addition to their $200 per year tuition fee. Coverage in The Argus relied 
on guilt to get students to pay: 

Wesleyan's need is sufficiently serious to cause every friend of the 
school to come to its support at this time, with heroism and genuine sac- 
rifice . . . The responsibility of meeting the great need of the Wesleyan 
must be felt by the student body also whom the institution most directly 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 41 

serves, and whom the realization of the goal of the million dollar drive 
will most directly benefit. 
It was all part of Wesleyan's county- wide fundraising campaign with a $1 mil- 
lion goal. Deficits had been increasing since 1924, after the university's annual 
operating funds dried up, and financial woes increased when the permanent 
endowment dropped too low to pay day-to-day costs. Not only did The Argus 
appeal to the student body when the story was first announced, but editor 
Madeleine Anderson Cutright ('31) wrote a front-page personal appeal to the 
students in the next issue under the headline "Wesleyan will! — Subscribe 100 
Percent!" By December 1931, the fund totaled just over $548,000. 

The endowment rose another $150,042 when Wesleyan merged with 
Hedding Seminary and Central Illinois Female College in 1930. Hedding 
College had been established in 1857 — seven years after Wesleyan's founding — 
in Abington, Illinois. The December 18, 1930 Argus reported that the college 
could not recover from its own financial crisis and ran out of money to pay 
repair charges and professor salaries. Wesleyan sold Hedding 's campus to an all- 
male military school and acquired Hedding 's endowment and 400 alumni. 

Despite fundraising efforts and the Hedding acquisition, the Depression 
eventually caught up with Wesleyan. While students in 1930 were asked to 
donate an extra $25, times got so bad by 1932 that some students were allowed 
to pay a portion of their tuition with eggs and sheep. The top story for that year, 
"Wesleyan Accepts Farm Produce for Tuition," explained that the university's 
Produce for Tuition system allowed farmers to exchange produce and livestock 
at more than fair market value for tuition, room and board. Newspapers across 
the country went hog-wild over Wesleyan's "desire to help the youth of the Corn 
Belt." The Chicago Tribune, the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times and 
WGN Radio in Chicago all publicized the unique tuition plan reported in The 

The only Produce for Tuition program in the country also led to Wesleyan's 
first appearance on the silver screen. The arrival of Hollywood's Paramount 
News Corporation on registration day in 1932 turned the quad into a trading 
post, complete with bales of hay and an occasional cow. The Argus reported that 
a local theater reserved its seats for Wesleyan's 531 students and described the 
nation's first filmed glimpse of Wesleyan: 

All kinds of farm products were on hand. There were cows, pigs, sheep, 
chickens, a truck of oats, a truck full of cream cans. Someone had even 
managed to find two or three rabbits and Mr. Crabtree [Wesleyan's busi- 
ness manager] was willing to accept them. 
The final scene showed a student chasing a stray pig across the street, catching it 
and then applying it to his tuition. The film played to an estimated 25 million 
people in 5,000 theaters nationwide. 

But Produce for Tuition wasn't just a publicity stunt. Ralph E. McCoy ('37), 
editor of the 1936-37 Argus, recalled that Wesleyan did all it could to help stu- 
dents, and tried to foster the kind of carefree college atmosphere that once exist- 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 42 

■hn Dickinson of Abingdon is coming to Weslevan cveni„f filsn He i< shown in the track hi 
ready rash is scarce, He was the first to take advantage! 
iois Weslevan university's offer to accept produce in H cu ! Martin Hammitt, at the right At the 

i been assisted bj Ti 
is Mr Trout, trick dri 

The only Produce for Tuition progrom in the nation (1932). Note the humorous typo- 
graphical error at the end of the caption. 

ed. "Almost everyone had some sort of campus job to pay for tuition," he said. 
Charlotte Fitzhenry Robling, editor from 1937-38, added, "By the time my class 
got to Wesley an, we were used to hard times. The Depression didn't affect me 
that much because half of my tuition [which was then approximately $200 per 
year] was already paid for, since I was editor." 

One benefit to come from the Depression was reported in the November 28, 
1934 Argus, which announced, "Wesleyan Is Now Represented On The Air, To 
present five hours each week." Although WJBC-Radio had been on the air since 
1924, The Argus reported that the radio station's move to Illinois Wesleyan was a 
"purely commercial proposition." WJBC began broadcasting from the third 
floor of Old North Hall, according to the front-page article, though Wesleyan did 
not receive any air time until November 14. On the daily "Wesleyan Hour," stu- 
dents chosen by WJBC from the School of Music and the College of Liberal 
Arts were "to bring worth while things from the Wesleyan campus to all alumni 
and friends of the university and to all who may be interested in what we are 
doing here." (Wesleyan's own radio station, WESN, began broadcasting on 
February 28, 1972, according to The Argus.) 

Another media-related highlight came when Martha Gellhorn, a "brilliant 
young American novelist and journalist" who would later become Ernest 
Hemingway's third wife, visited campus the week of January 12, 1938. 
Gellhorn, who started her reporting career after quitting college at age 18, 
"described vividly her experiences in the Spanish war zone to one of the largest 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 43 

audiences of the lecture season when she spoke at Presser Hall last Thursday 

Argus front-page contents changed as World War II consumed America. 
Suddenly the newspaper was full of interesting subject matter and solid facts. 
Even campus coverage was colored by the war. Besides the ever-present patriot- 
ic theme (an American flag appeared on the front page every issue), editors 
reported stories on "Reserve Men! See That Papers Are In Order," "Army, 
Navy, And Marines Recruit 48 In Recent Drive" and "Vacation Is Changed Due 
To War." 

With the newspaper already deep in war coverage, another catastrophe 
struck Wesleyan. Hedding Hall, the second oldest building on the campus, 
burned the night of January 9, 1943. Suddenly, a newspaper that had once found 
itself searching for hard news was being bombarded with it on all sides — 
Strangely enough, the Hedding Hall story has been reprinted so many times in 
Argus issues that it has become a part of campus folklore. 

Extra! The Rise and Fall of Hedding Hall 

Built in 1870, Hedding Hall served as the major campus landmark, housing 
offices, alumni files, museum-quality specimens, laboratories, a new health 
department, 10 classrooms, Amie Chapel and irreplaceable trophies. The univer- 
sity originally named the building Old Main because of its general usefulness, 
but changed the name when Illinois Wesleyan acquired Hedding College. 

Seventy-two years of history went up in flames because of faulty electrical 
wiring on that Saturday night in January, and The Argus was on the scene from 
the time flames shot up through the roof until little was left but smoldering 
ashes. The newspaper provided students, administrators, alumni and townspeo- 
ple with a final record of the old building, under the editorship of Beth Mackey 
Stiffler ('43) and with the photographic talent of Don Hibbard ('45). The event 
prompted such massive publicity that The Argus interrupted its usual publication 
schedule to print a Hedding Hall "Extra" on Sunday, January 10, 1943 — the sec- 
ond of two Argus extras in history. (The first commemorated the 1910 football 
team's state championship.) 

"[Printer and mentor] Bernie Gummerman approached us with the idea of 
producing an extra issue about the fire, and the whole staff spent all day and 
night on Sunday working," Stiffler said. Fifty-one contributors funded the extra 
issue by means of a special ad deal arranged by business manager Don Freese 
('43). Thanks to the extra, "not one student missed class on Monday," Stiffler 
said, because The Argus worked with the administration to locate and report tem- 
porary locations for classes. 

According to the front-page article "Hedding Gone: Historic Hall in Ruins," 
some 4,500 spectators gathered to watch the fire that started on the second floor 
and spread rapidly. The spectacular flames allowed Hibbard to collect a vast 
array of photos which still tell the frightening reality of the fire 60 years later. 

The January 10, 1943 Pantagraph reported that the blaze was already out of 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 44 

control when the fire department arrived at 7 p.m. The fire consumed over 
200,000 gallons of water from Bloomington fire department water mains that 
struggled to maintain pressure. Adding to the nightmare was a strong wind 
which "blew sparks and flaming embers a full block east of the building." 

The scramble to collect items from the inferno almost cost Wesleyan more 
than money, momentos and memories. "There's a fascinating story I wish we 
could have printed and photographed, but we were working so hard," Mackey 
Stiffler said. "I was standing in front of the north side entrance after the fire had 
really got going, when, all of a sudden, Professor Ferguson came out carrying his 
books. The second after he came out, the beam above the door came crashing to 
the ground. I'm glad he made it out of there alive. He loved his books so much, 
he had to rescue them." 

Friday's issue following the Hedding fire allowed students to rise above their 
initial shock and express their emotion in the "Hedding Fire Souvenir Edition." 
The fire proved to be a journalistic windfall, since it spurred news and features to 
which an entire campus could relate. Seldom has an issue of The Argus been 
greeted with such anticipation. The souvenir issue reported not only the facts of 
the fire, but the loss experienced by faculty and students: 

With the crumbling of the pillars of Amie Chapel went a lifetime of 
memories, tradition and customs built by men who were pioneers in a 
great venture. Each creaking step of Hedding could have told a story; 
every nook and cranny could have revealed human secrets. Through 
Hedding Hall each day stalked the ghosts of war, hardships, romance, 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 45 

The Argus 






Help Save 

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office material* from the barn- 
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Theatre «n the second floor 

fn Apprecitttion 


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i Heddinf Hall, 

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Er Equipment 

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mt duplicates moved to JJnley todfe, i 
insurance of- the Home Sr department 
lOUOM be located 

The second "Extra" in Argus history. 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 46 

study, achievement, and depression . . . from the lives of those who have 
gone before. Yes, the building of Hedding is gone! 
The inside pages of the souvenir issue included a photo essay by Hibbard (pho- 
tos which also appeared in The Pantagraph), poems dedicated to Hedding and an 
article which not only carried a feeling of nostalgia, but reminded readers of the 
world's problems beyond Wesleyan. Staff writer Margot Smith Lucas ('44) 
likened the sentiments of a college campus struggling to overcome a destructive 
setback to the perseverance of those fighting World War II. "We can better real- 
ize the spirit of England when they put out their signs, 'Business as Usual,' after 
a night of bombing," Lucas wrote. "In the same manner we do back up 
President Shaw 100 percent when he issued the statement, 'Classes as Usual' on 
Monday morning." 

That following March, the university razed the building, leaving only the 

foundation and the lower level to 
serve as Duration Hall (renamed to 
express the "power" of that portion 
of Hedding to survive the fire). In 
1965, despite an Argus editorial 
pleading the university to save 
Duration Hall, the university 
destroyed it in order to create a 
"roomier" quad. 

Reagan Visit and Homecomings 
Highlight the 1950s 

The postwar era saw an Argus 
that focused on campus news once 
again. Articles acted as a social cal- 
endar, with few interviews or 
quotes. For example, when The 
Argus announced that jazz great 
Count Basie would perform at 
Wesleyan to kick off "Greek Week" 
in 1958, it ran an introductory arti- 
cle describing his popular talent and 
lifestyle. But when he actually entertained the Wesleyan crowd, no picture or 
story ran in the paper. The same held true for composer Aaron Copland and 
singer Johnny Mathis. This trend of announcing but not covering events contin- 
ued through the mid-1960s. The newspaper also placed emphasis on IWU's 
growing population, offering such stories as "Centennial Class Of 267 Largest In 
History" (May 24, 1950) and "IWU Fastest Enrollment Growth In State" 
(November 17, 1954). 

Had editors known that Ronald Reagan would serve two terms as President 
of the United States in the 1980s, the 1955 article, "Ronald Reagan Tells TKE of 

What remained of Hedding Hall was 
renamed Duration. 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 47 

Communist Infiltration," might have appeared on the front page. Unfortunately, 
hindsight is 20/20, and the information on Reagan's Homecoming visit to the 
Tau Kappa Epsilon fraternity house was relegated to page eight. Although 
Reagan — a TKE in his days at Eureka College — had not yet entered the political 
world, he expressed "McCarthyist" views when asked if communists were 
invading Hollywood. The following article, reprinted from the October 26, 1955 
Argus, reflects both the journalistic and social climate in which it was written. 

Ronald Reagan Tells TKE Of Communistic Infiltration 

The members of Tau Kappa Epsilon were honored and privileged Thursday 
night by a brief visit with Ronald Reagan. There was no doubt left in the minds 
of those who were there that Mr. Reagan is a gentleman in every sense of the word. 

Upon entering the house, the movie star commented "I remember Wesleyan, 
they are the ones that beat us all the time in football." 

Played Against IWU 

Recalling some of his football experiences against Wesleyan, Mr. Reagan 
said, "When I played against Wesleyan they had two big bruisers in the line by 
the name of O'Brien and Murphy. On this particular play, they picked me up 
and carried me about 30 yards downfield in the air. While in the air I kept 
watching the play and finally tapped them on the back and said, 'You can let me 
down now, boys, the play is over!'" 

The conversation turned to a more serious mood when someone asked about 
the infiltration of communists in Hollywood. 

Communism in Hollywood 

Mr. Reagan explained that some communists were very well trained in the 
art of acting and sent to Hollywood to get acting jobs but most of all to start 
communist cells. "The commies worked their way into the unions and caused a 
big strike. There were nearly 2,000 people that would not go on strike so the 
movie industry kept right [on] producing movies. Soon after that the other peo- 
ple got tired of hearing the communist lies and went back to work." 

"It can be said," he continued, "that none of the big name stars were or are 
communists, and I would venture to say that there is less than one per cent of the 
people affiliated with the movie industry that are communists." 

Directing TV Show 

"Are there any more questions?" he asked. "Doesn't anyone want to know 
about [the marriage of] Joe [DiMaggio] and Marilyn [Monroe]?" 

"Are you doing any directing?" someone asked. "It seems," he said in 
answer, "the directors and producers want the actors to stay actors. It is hard to 
break into that field. However," the handsome actor continued, "I am directing a 
television production for the General Electric theater. This will be my first 
attempt at directing." 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 48 

Once again he asked, "Are you sure you don't want to know what happened 
to Joe and Marilyn?" 

Mr. Reagan stayed a few minutes more, chatting informally and autograph- 
ing pictures for the boys. Before leaving Ronald Reagan joined in with the rest 
of the members and sang the fraternity toast song. 

"I might not have been on key but I kept up with you," he remarked. 

Then in closing he stated, "I best be going — I know how hard it is getting up 
for an eight o'clock class." 

The heavy emphasis on campus activity explains The Argus' fascination with 
Homecoming during the postwar era and into 1960s. Detailed Homecoming arti- 
cles often ran on the front page up to a month before the big event. Editors freed 
entire pages for huge pictures of queen candidates, and most editors supplied a 
retrospective on the events even two or three weeks later. Every issue heralded 
the returning alumni. The October 15, 1947 introduction to the Homecoming 
supplement was a typical one for the era: 

"We've polished up the handle on the big front door," we've spruced up 
out houses and vocal chords to show you, the returning alumni, the most 
enjoyable weekend possible. You'll find quite a few new twists in this 
year's celebration which should support our belief that this is the biggest 
and best Homecoming in the history of our university. Without one 
thought in mind, however, our efforts would have been in vain. That 
thought was of you, our returning alumni. 
The Argus reported that 1957 Homecoming events — including the "Greek- 
Indee sing," house decorating contest and "competition events for the [empty] 
keg" — were "curtailed" because of "widespread illness." A week before the cel- 
ebration, The Argus reported that "Saturday's football game with Wheaton has 
been called off because of illness at both schools. Wesleyan's squad has been 
reduced to the point where substitution would be difficult." Most of the team 
quickly recovered, only to lose to Millikin the next week. 

The 1958 Homecoming celebration found all of Wesleyan healthy again, but 
a minor controversy in the float-building competition made headlines which 
marred the festivities: 

Sigma Chi fraternity's Homecoming float was disqualified because of 
height specifications by a 14-4 vote of the Student Senate Monday after- 
noon. Well over 100 spectators turned out to set the largest attendance 
record for any Senate meeting this year . . . The question under discus- 
sion was: Did the Sigma Chi float pass under the sign and wire over the 
west gate of the campus without the wire being lifted up by poles 
manned by Sigma Chi pledges? (October 31, 1958) 
Homecoming may have dominated the front pages, but by 1990s standards, 
one of the biggest stories to make The Argus was a report on a campus energy 
crisis that occurred in February and March of 1950. The university was forced 
to close three buildings and cut the heat to 65 degrees in all other buildings due 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 49 

to a coal mining strike. The "big freeze," as it came to be known in The Argus, 
ended when Wesleyan received a rationed supply of coal for four weeks until the 
strike ended. 

The remainder of 1950s coverage focused on the intimate activities of the 
Wesleyan campus. The front page was a forum for the announcements of new 
fraternity presidents, sorority housemothers, play production schedules and per- 
sonal statements from Argus members. Staff writer Nancy Kuechenberg's ('60) 
March 13, 1957 explanation of how and why she broke her leg twice in one year 
received front-page attention in "Argus Writer Plagued With Clumsyness Blues:" 
Perhaps deep inside I had a feeling of insecurity. With a cast on my foot 
I have a feeling of power — I know that people will notice me . . . Then 
too, with this cast on my foot, I can hope that Bob Page, editor of 
Wesleyan's renowned "Argus," will be sympathetic and break down by 
printing some of my masterful literature. Actually the whole thing boils 
down to the fact that I'm pretty d — clumsy. 

Civil Rights and Student Activism 

The 1960s and early 1970s have been recorded as one of the most volatile 
socio-political ages in American history, and the events of the era took The 
Argus front page to a new level of coverage. During these years, students took 
over the front pages as often as they took over campus offices with sit-ins and 
protests. For The Argus, dealing with the impact that radical national events had 
on Wesleyan's campus was fairly new ground. As 1966-67 Argus editor Jim 
Dorsey ('67) put it, "We were so naive when we came here as middle-class col- 
lege students. The events of the time forced us to look outside Wesleyan." 

Such was the case when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. visited IWU in 1961 and 
1966. When King first came to Illinois Wesleyan, the world could not foresee 
the great impact his life would have on the civil rights movement. In fact, the 
February 10, 1961 Argus front-page preview of his visit read more like a resume 
than an article explaining his ideals. But staff writer Nancy Hitchings Danou 
('61) placed King's nonviolent struggle in short but succinct perspective, noting 
that as "a man who never forgot to 'love his enemy;' he made sufferings a virtue." 

In follow-up articles on "King: Nonviolence Answer to Segregation," and 
"Do We Really Love Our Neighbors?" staff writers Dave Kresl ('61) and Peggy 
Storey ('64) covered the Main Lounge banquet speech and radio interviews. 
They wrote that King advocated a peaceful movement towards racial equality 
and condemned the theory of separate but equal rights: "We have never had any 
separate but equal facilities," he said. King left his crowd with the type of inspi- 
rational words that made him famous: 

Non-violence is the most effective weapon for oppressed people ... It is 
the only way to achieve an adequate solution to the problem . . . 
Violence in our struggle would be impractical and immoral ... to deal 
with a moral problem we should use a moral means. (February 17, 1961) 

Phylis Sanders Salak ('63) was a sophomore when she met King — a memo- 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 50 

rable moment for her, but not as memorable as her meeting with another campus 
visitor. "I got to interview Martin Luther King, Jr. and Jack Benny," she said. 
'Two big names, although, at the time, I think Jack Benny received the most 
attention from the campus." On an individual level, however, "I was in awe [of 
King]. It was so powerful. He was exceedingly charismatic as a person," Salak 

King returned to Wesleyan in 1966 after winning the Nobel Peace Prize and 
Time Magazine's 1963 "Man of the Year" award. Despite his international fame, 
the February 4, 1966 article that preceded his visit appeared at the bottom of 
page one and only reported a brief story of King's accomplishments. Even at 
that, the preview on "Dr. King coming here next week" was more coverage than 
King received the week after his speech. His presence on campus was not noted 
until two issues later, when, in an editorial, King was referred to as "undoubtedly 
one of the top civil rights leaders of the century" (February 25, 1966). 

Although the editorial board didn't think of it at the time, the fact that King's 
speech was not reported in The Argus shocks 1967-68 features editor Elizabeth 
Glosser Dorsey ('68) 27 years later. It seems that the newspaper maintained its 
policy of previewing speakers in order to bolster the size of the audiences, but 
not always covering what speakers said. Not until January, 1989 did Argus read- 
ers learn the importance of King's visit. In the retrospective "Martin Luther 
King, Jr. twice touched Wesleyan," managing editor Eric Gardner ('89) reported 
the essence of King's appearance on campus. Gardner wrote that Student Senate 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 51 

sponsored King's second visit, which consisted of a speech given to a crowd of 
more than 3,000 at Fred Young Fieldhouse, as well as classroom appearances 
and an address to local clergy. 

Gardner was able to report King's speech thanks to a re-broadcast by 
Bloomington radio station WJBC: 

King got through to his audience on that night in February of 1966; he 
received standing ovations on both entering and leaving the hall. He 
told his audience, "We must build a greater America. It cannot be built 
on bombs. It cannot be built on riots. We must work to change the cli- 
mate that makes for bitterness that causes individuals to turn to these 
types of self-destruction." 
After King's assassination on the early morning of April 4, 1968, Wesleyan 
mourned with a memorial candlelight vigil. In addition to that event, which was 
held on April 9, approximately 25 students, mostly African-Americans according 
to The Argus, held a vigil that evening. Both services received front-page treat- 
ment, though an inside letter to the editor best captured the impact of King's 
death and his legacy of nonviolent change. Sara Ellen Long ('64) wrote, 

Not until Friday, April 5, did IWU have a deeper meaning to me. For on 
that day I faced a classroom of sixth graders in which the first hour of 
discussion concerned the tragic event ... It was with the notes from 
[King's speech in 1961] that I faced my class on Friday, and with them I 
address this letter to you. [King] challenged us to accept the responsibil- 
ity of taking the destiny of our culture and redirecting it and remaking it 
so that equality . . . might reign, and so segregation . . . would be elimi- 
nated. Have you as students considered your total commitment to your 
destiny and to that of the environment you live in? I challenge you to 
take all there is at IWU and give all you have to it and to yourself. Only 
in this way might you contribute to the world that Martin Luther King, 
Jr. envisioned and hoped to obtain. (April 12, 1968) 
The Reverend Jesse Jackson spoke at the Religious Activities Commission's 
civil rights symposium in February 1967. According to Linda Henderson 
Fischer's ('70) article on the Baptist minister, Jackson emphasized the clash 
between Christianity and racism: 

"The reason I do not hate whites is because I'm Christian. . . . Christ had 

a new definition of man. He was free to deal with all men." People 

today, the speaker believes, must "graduate from man's particularity to 

man's universality." (March 3, 1967) 

Like King, Jackson recommended nonviolent protest and change to a receptive 

Wesleyan crowd. "It is a challenge to remain nonviolent in times like these, but 

it is mandatory," he said. "I leave the violence to the fools and the foolhardy." 

Jackson's presence drew an even greater response from Wesleyan than 
King's, according to 1967-68 editor Elizabeth Glosser Dorsey. "The campus was 
very attuned to and really participated in the civil rights movement," she 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 52 

recalled. "Jesse Jackson left an indelible impression. He was certainly the most 
militant person we'd ever seen." 

Argus coverage of the civil rights movement not only centered on King and 
Jackson, but also on campus activism. A December 3, 1965 article, "We must 
face integration now," by Student Senate President Dick Muirhead ('66), report- 
ed a letter received from a disgruntled student at Whitman College (Washington) 
about the slow pace of integration on college campuses. "The Whitman College 
chapters of Phi Delta Theta and Sigma Chi cannot pledge Negroes," wrote 
Whitman's Robert K. Wallace. "If . . . your institution, and ours, and fifty more 
could place simultaneous pressure on our local chapters, then the national frater- 
nities would have to change or else lose a very substantial block of their member 
chapters." Wallace sent copies of the letter to 183 institutions. 

In response, the Human Relations Committee of Wesleyan's Student Senate 
issued a statement calling for an integrated Wesleyan: "We also affirm our intent 
to demonstrate this faith by pursuing actively the practice of integrating 
Wesleyan affiliated groups and organizations" (December 10, 1965). 

The next week's lead story, "What does rights statement mean?" reported 

Student Senate concerns elicited 
by the Wallace letter and 
Human Relations Committee 
statement. The article told how 
senators debated the "risks" and 
"consequences" of voluntary 
racial integration imposed by a 
university organization. They 
questioned whether people 
would endorse the rights state- 
ment for the sake of equal rights 
or to inhibit Greek life. 
Although the administration 
took no official position, associ- 
ate dean of students Donald 
Ruthenberg said, "Too often 
people who support this sort of 
movement are more anti-frater- 
nity than pro-integration. We 
have to respect the right of 
selection of the fraternity." At the time, Ruthenberg was also adviser to the 
Interfraternity Council advisor and a member of the Human Relations 

While senators bickered over the pros and cons of the rights statement, 
Human Relations Committee member and sociology professor Emily Dale clari- 
fied the committee's declaration in the December 17, 1965 Argus: 

It means that we believe in an integrated community rather than in a dis- 



H i 

S 1 
1 1 


^' : \? : '" ''W' : ''SX?SE':> 


Reverend Jesse Jackson and local minister Jack 

Porter (1967). 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 53 

integrated one. It means that we intend to practice what we affirm rather 
than paying mere lip service to an ideal. And it means that we pledge 
our encouragement to those organizations as yet unintegrated which 
affirm their support of the ultimate goal, rather than disowning or dis- 
avowing them. 
After the Human Relations Committee ensured that the rights statement would 
not shut down any university organization, Senate approved it on December 12, 
1965. (In 1968, five black students chartered Wesleyan's first predominantly 
black fraternity. The organization disbanded in 1971.) 

The formation of the Black Student Association (BSA) in 1968 sparked the 
next campus uprising over civil rights. The November 22, 1968 front-page story 
"BSA demands ten percent black faculty by fall of '69" described the organiza- 
tion's reaction to IWU's number of African-American professors at the time — 
zero. The article reported the need for black professors and staff in order "to 
complete the black students' educational experiences and to aid them in identify- 
ing with the modern aspirations and goals of the Black man in this country." 
Newly inducted President Robert Eckley responded to BSA's demands in the 
December 6 Argus, writing that the university would make "extra efforts" to 
employ black professors. However, Eckley added, "There is little likelihood that 
a major portion of the specialized positions can be filled by black candidates, 
even with the extraordinary efforts we are prepared to make." Eckley said that 
recruiting black professors was difficult since blacks composed only two percent 
of the Ph.D. holders in liberal arts at the time. What followed was a series of 
petitions and meetings between BSA and Eckley over the integrated faculty issue. 

BSA's demand came to a theoretical resolution, as reported in the April 18, 
1969 article "New faculty policy calls for integration." The faculty approved a 
statement made by the Human Relations Committee to 1) "make special efforts 
to attract qualified black persons to IWU," 2) support the increased recruitment 
of African- American students, and 3) offer "directly relevant courses" for minor- 
ity students. Two years after BSA demanded a 10 percent African- American 
faculty, Wesleyan hired one black faculty member, and the university has 
employed at least one black faculty member since that time. 

The 1969 integration policy did not stop reports of alleged discrimination in 
The Argus. Assistant managing editor Jim Robinson's ('74) October 13, 1972 
front-page story, "Alleged discrimination mars fall cheerleading tryouts" report- 
ed how Cheryl Portwood ('74) filed a petition with the university against the 
cheerleader selection process. Portwood contended that "there were only five 
out of a required seven judges, only one black judge, only one person selecting 
judges and internal conflict within the squad" at the tryouts. After weeks of 
Student Senate debate on whether the cheerleader selection process should be 
revised, Dean of Students Jerry Jensen took the matter into his own hands. "It is 
obvious to me that there are other problems surrounding the whole matter of 
cheerleading selection and the total operation of the cheerleading program," 
Jensen said. "All future procedures for selection and governing of cheerleaders 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 54 

will need to be made in consultation with the Dean of Students." That year, the 
cheerleading squad was expanded from eight to 1 1 women. 

Kent State and Campus Protest 

As on other campuses across the nation, Wesleyan students also protested the 
Vietnam War. Although violence never erupted in Bloomington-Normal to the 
same extent as other college communities, The Argus looked outside the campus 
to cover nationwide protests. The May 8, 1970 Argus extensively reported the 
deaths of four students at Kent State University in Ohio after President Richard 
M. Nixon announced the United States' invasion of Cambodia. After 500 to 600 
students set the Kent State ROTC building on fire the night of Saturday, May 2, 
National Guard troops fired 30 to 40 shots into a crowd of more than 2,000 dur- 
ing a Cambodian invasion protest, according to the May 8 Argus. The bullets 
killed four students and wounded nine. "Bloody Monday," as Kent State politi- 
cal science professor Byron Lander called it in a May 15, 1970 Argus speaker 
story, gave an emotional shape to the Vietnam protest that made campus journal- 
ists as active as their professional counterparts. 

The Kent State incident prompted editor Tom Wetzel ('72) and The Argus 
staff to collect first-hand information on what took place. "We spent at least four 
hours on the phone with reporters and students in Kent, Ohio," Wetzel said. 
"The only outside help we had with the Kent State issue were a few photographs 
from the AP wire." The staff's hard work resulted in five pages of Kent State 
coverage in the May 8 Argus, which also printed both student and faculty reac- 
tions to the incident, along with a graphic of George Washington crying on Mt. 
Rushmore. Though things remained relatively peaceful at Illinois Wesleyan and 
nearby Illinois State University, The Argus reported that students broke store 
windows and held an all-day protest on the quadrangle at the University of Illinois 
less than an hour's drive away, while at Southern Illinois University, rioting became 
so widespread that Governor Richard Ogilvie called out the National Guard. 

At Wesleyan, Student Senate asked the administration to lower the flag to 
half-mast at the south end of the quadrangle, in honor of those slain at Kent 
State. However, before President Eckley and Dean of Students Jerry Jensen 
gave permission to lower the flag at noon, an unidentified student lowered it at 
11:40 a.m. This resulted in a verbal skirmish among 75 pro- and anti-war stu- 
dents about 10 minutes later, according to The Argus. At noon, IWU security 
and Jensen broke up the confrontation without injury or arrest. Jensen read 
Eckley's statement calling for the flag to be lowered "in memory of the four stu- 
dents killed at Kent State and those who have died in Southeast Asia." 
(Lowering the flag as a sign of loss was nothing new to Wesleyan students. 
Black students lowered the flag in honor of slain black activist Fred Hampton 
without administrative approval in October 1969, according to The Argus.) 

At 12:40 p.m., some students placed a coffin filled with flowers in front of 
the flagpole and said prayers in memory of the four students. The flag remained 
at half-mast for the afternoon, except for a brief period at 1:30 p.m., when one 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 55 

student raised it to full mast and another "promptly brought it back down." The 
same issue of The Argus also reported that IWU students were involved in anoth- 
er flag incident at Illinois State, where a peaceful sit-in turned into a fist fight, 
with 300 students brawling below the campus' un-lowered flag. Only after 60 
unruly students sat outside President Samuel Braden's office for three hours did 
he sign an agreement to lower ISU's flag to half-mast. 

Still recovering from the Kent State issue, Wetzel was sitting in the 
Memorial Center Argus office the following week when he heard screams of 
"Fire!" from across the quad. What transpired that night culminated in the next 
edition's front-page article, "Fire destroys Presser Hall stage" (May 15, 1970). 
"The scene was just not to be believed," Wetzel remembered. "Smoke was pour- 
ing out of the building while music students sat on the curb in tears. This was 
their home." 

Two fires were reported to have started in the early morning of May 12, 
1970. One blaze started above Westbrook Auditorium's stage and the other in a 
basement practice room. After the Bloomington and Normal fire departments 
had battled the blaze for over two hours, the crowd of spectators dispersed with 
the exception of members of Phi Mu Alpha — the professional music fraternity — 
who guarded Presser until the next morning. Damage was estimated at $150,000 
in addition to two grand pianos at about $8,000 each and a $10,000 practice 
organ. The newspaper carried photos of the fire damage, which Wetzel 
described as "eerie. We walked through the [damaged portion of Presser] and 
found sheet music still standing on the [damaged] organ." 

"The fire had developed rapidly, indicating the possibility of gasoline or 
other volatile fuels," according 
to the article, collectively writ- 
ten by The Argus staff. "[The 
fire chief] said it was definitely 
a case of arson." The suspi- 
cion of arson and the close 
proximity of the event to Kent 
State prompted widespread 
rumors that Wesleyan's fire 
was a reaction to the Ohio 
campus shootings. As a result, 
the fire was reported across the 
country through wire services. 
Two years later the arsonists 
were apprehended. Instead of 
a politically motivated protest, 
the fire had served as revenge 
for two juveniles who were 
upset at having been kicked out 
of Presser the night before. 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 56 

Just as Wetzel finished supervising coverage of the Presser fire, another flag 
controversy erupted. The front page of the May 29, 1970 Argus showed a pic- 
ture of senior Ronald Klipp ('70) marching in the Honors' Day Convocation 
with an upside-down flag sewn to his graduation gown, which caused a campus 
uproar. Instead of a story, Wetzel created an expanded "letter to the editor" sec- 
tion for the Klipp incident on page five of the May 29 issue. Six letters 
appeared, as well as Klipp's explanation of his gesture: 

The American Flag worn and displayed traditionally stands for freedom, 
equality, opportunity, justice and, perhaps the most significant, democra- 
cy. By wearing the flag upside down, I am stating that America is no 
longer representative of the aforementioned qualities. I speak here of 
prevalent repression, racism, inequality, injustice the move toward 
racism and other symptoms of contemporary America. 
Fellow student Kai Nielsen ('72) defended Klipp's actions in one of the letters: 

This gesture has been called disruptive; if it was, would somebody 
please tell me what it disrupted. . . . How shocking can the simple wear- 
ing of an upside-down flag (the international symbol of distress) be 
when taken in context of the deaths at Kent State, Augusta, Ga., and 
Jackson, Miss., the thousands of deaths in Indochina and the deaths of 
children from malnutrition all over the world, including this country? 
Wenona Yvonne Whitfield ('70) also defended the action saying, "As an adult, as 
a black woman, as a student and as a citizen, I cannot and will not watch another 
persons' rights being denied. I could give less than a damn about whether the 
flag was worn, carried or right-side up." 

In another letter, three 
faculty members — Emily 
and Steven Dale and Max 
Pape — disagreed with Klipp, 
calling his actions infantile: 
"To use a collective com- 
memorative ceremony to 
indulge in personal protest is 
not only a waste of individ- 
ual energy but also alienates 
whole segments who might 
otherwise support needed 
change. ... We should build, 
not destroy. We should cre- 
ate, not desecrate." 

Turning Honors Day upside down: Senior Ronald 
Klipp caused a stir by wearing an upside down flag 
on his gown. 

Minor Skirmishes 

Minority students were 
not the only campus group 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 57 

that pressured the university in the 1960s and 1970s. The women's movement 
was sweeping the nation, and started Wesleyan women questioning the issue of 
women's hours. In 1965, university regulations stipulated that female students 
could not leave their residence halls after 10:30 p.m. on weeknights and 12:30 
a.m. on weekends. The fight to eliminate women's hours arrived on the front 
page on October 29, 1965, when it was reported that women were sent a Student 
Senate questionnaire concerning dormitory hours. The response was so negative 
that a special committee was formed with the purpose of working "to submit a 
formal report of what should be done to change the present hours system" 
(December 3, 1965). 

The May 27, 1966 article, "Women's hours revised for fall," explained the 
impact of the committee's results. Under the new proposal, female students 
could look forward to staying out until 1 a.m. on Friday and Saturday nights, but, 
like Cinderella with but one hour to spare, their evening would be ruined if they 
came home late. Why? Because the doors would be locked. The "buddy sys- 
tem" was the only way to gain entrance after curfew, with "late nights" extended 
to women according to class rank and grade point average. In response to the 
proposal, women petitioned to abolish hours for juniors and seniors. On 
November 1, 1968, The Argus reported that a commission composed of students, 
faculty and administration decided that junior and senior women living in resi- 
dential halls would be allowed to regulate their hours with the consent of a par- 
ent. According to The Argus, the proposal aimed "to help women 'develop 
social understanding' — an objective which is part of the official university pur- 
pose." Though campus femajes felt a battle had been won when the optional 
hours plan went into effect in spring 1969, the war was not over. 

Women's hours "elapsed" altogether in fall 1973, making its last front-page 
appearance in the October 12, 1973 story on "Wine, Women, and Whatever." 
Restrictive hours spurred representatives from Munsell Hall to petition Student 
Senate for more freedom. They claimed that such hours were "an overt act of 
discrimination against the women of Illinois Wesleyan University by the admin- 
istration." Munsell representatives also asked that Wesleyan recognize women 
18 years and older as adults, in accordance with the state of Illinois. Though 
hours were apparently abolished in late fall, the newspaper merely mentioned the 
disappearance of the mandatory restriction in an editorial supporting Tom 
Patterson ('75) for Student Senate president on March 1, 1974. 

Perhaps the end of women's hours did not make front-page headlines 
because, at the time, The Argus was struggling against its own governing body, 
the Student Senate. A record four editors ran the newspaper in 1973-74, with 
most de-emphasizing coverage of regular campus issues to focus on Argus- 
Senate controversies. (Argus-Senate relations will be discussed in chapter six.) 

Another issue that received a great deal of coverage was the university's 
alcohol policy. Although Wesleyan was a dry campus until 1973, 1957 and 1958 
issues of The Argus indicate that students were no strangers to alcohol. Letters 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 58 

to the editor reveal that one student was almost expelled for consuming alcohol 
in 1957, while two were expelled in April 1964 for alcohol consumption. 

Letters also indicate that students had contrasting views on the issue. In the 
column "Policy On Drinking Needs Revision," Stu DeLuca ('64) wrote that stu- 
dent consumption of alcohol had increased exponentially during his four years at 
Wesleyan and that the entire alcohol policy should be re-examined. 

I was given to understand that alcohol . . . managed to seep into a few 
fraternity or sorority parties . . . Now, a scant four years later, it has 
become increasingly common to encounter students — male and female, 
Greek and non-Greek — half stoned before noontime. . . . I am . . . dis- 
pleased with the hypocritical attitude the school has shown during the 
past two or three years toward students who have become virtually alco- 
holics. (February 26, 1964) 
While DeLuca berated the university's "see-nothing" approach to alcohol on 
campus, Pete Zappa ('66) criticized the university for being too stringent when it 
expelled two students for drinking that April: 

The two scapegoats made only one mistake — they got caught. So what 
did they do that was so bad — rob a bank, snatch a purse, or assault a 
girl? Hell no! The big bad, boisterous, benevolent Normal Police 
department caught them drinking, foul as it may seem, beer. ... If that is 
the case, there are a few hundred others that should have been given an 
extended leave of absence. 
A 1960 column, penned under the pseudonym "Akanthos," maintained that 
the alcohol issue was destroying the campus. The writer criticized the policy of 
alcoholic "abstinence" and proposed 1) that the university recognize drinking 
with "a more realistic attitude on the part of the administration [and] make it pos- 
sible to provide a better way 
to dispose of empty beer 
cans. . ." and 2) that the uni- 
versity require students to 
attend a seminar on alcohol 
education — adding, "This 
doesn't mean how to mix 

Ankanthos' flippant 
argument for a "wet" 
Wesleyan became a moot 
point once the state of 
Illinois lowered its legal 
drinking age from 21 to 19 
in 1973, and the October 26, 
1973 Argus reported the 
Wesleyan Board of Trustees' 

Trophy time: Though Illinois Wesleyan was a dry 
campus, the winners of the Homecoming float- 
building and house decorating competition took 
home an empty beer keg. 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 59 

"landmark decision" to allow consumption of beer and wine in private rooms for 
the first time in 123 years. With the lower drinking age, an estimated 60 percent 
of the student body could purchase beer and wine in Illinois. 

Still, the 1973 policy continued to come under attack in The Argus. A 
November 1977 front-page article reported that many readers did not completely 
understand the policy. Only after the newspaper interviewed several administra- 
tors (a technique that finally came into use in the late 1960s) did students fully 
understand when and where they could consume alcohol. In addition, beer or 
wine could only be transported between private rooms without going through 
study lounges and stairways. Political editor Don Thompson ('80) interpreted 
the statement to mean that the board did not "want Wesleyan to become known 
as a party school," but wanted it to "keep and develop a reputation for its acade- 
mic orientation." (November 18, 1977). By the end of the school year, the 
administration tightened the alcohol policy. During the fall of 1978, the univer- 
sity banned beer kegs and prohibited alcohol consumption in certain campus 
housing areas. This step allowed the university to monitor room capacity and 
regulate beer parties in Greek houses. 

January 1, 1980 meant the end of the state of Illinois' six-year experiment 
with a lower legal drinking age, and the drinking age was reset at 21. In the lead 
article from September 12, 1979, Dean of Students Glenn Swichtenberg 
announced that Wesleyan also would return to its pre- 1973 policy: 

The University decided to eliminate alcohol entirely from the campus, 
rather than to allow those 21 or older to drink in order to remain 'consis- 
tent,' Swichtenberg said. ... He said that the University adopts 'rules 
and regulations to fit the majority of the students, not the minority.' 
The reality of Wesleyan's renewed "dry" attitude hit as the new year arrived. 
The Argus warned students of possible punishment in its first two articles of the 
new decade, "Bell tolls age change, violators face penalties" and "Dean vows 
'no more games.'" Both articles demonstrated the severity of violation but, 
between the lines, assumed drinking would still take place on Wesleyan's cam- 
pus — "Just don't get caught." 

Alcohol also played a prominent role in the aftermath of the 1977 campaign 
for Student Senate president. With the March 22, 1977 front-page headline pro- 
claiming "Changeover carried out despite scandal," the newspaper looked more 
like the National Enquirer than a college publication. 

Newly elected Senate President Jerry Pope ('80), who gained the presidency 
in a run-off election by only 16 votes, reportedly conducted his first meeting 
under a haze of scandal. The Argus wrote that senators questioned Pope's 
alleged purchasing of alcohol for Greek houses before the election. Editor Maria 
Donato ('78) wrote that Pope provided alcohol for "one particular fraternity" and 
for "an interfraternity function." However, Donato also reported that a majority 
of students were unaware of Pope's connection with the Student Senate election 
and thought he was buying the kegs as a gesture of friendship: 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 60 

When questioned by The Argus about any signs concerning Pope's elec- 
tion one TKE senator stated that the only sign up stated "Vote for Jerry 
Pope and win two kegs." After the question and answer session an oral 
vote of confidence was called for [Pope]. He received it. 
The vote of confidence allowed Pope to stay out of the media spotlight until 
he resigned the following December. On December 9, 1977, in front-page cov- 
erage completely devoted to Pope's resignation, political and issues editor Don 
Thompson and staff writer Elizabeth Martin Hordgraf ('80) related Pope's strug- 
gle to remain president. Pope explained that he was too involved in extracurricu- 
lar activities and needed time to study. During a "tearful good-bye" Pope 
stepped down, promising continued involvement with Senate. 

"Involvement" was an understatement, however, as the next issue of The 
Argus on January 27, 1978 described how Pope — now a senator for Tau Kappa 
Epsilon — initiated a filibuster that spanned two meetings. The issue which 
sparked the stall tactic centered on Pope's desire not to include independent stu- 
dents in a Rush-Pledge study committee. Those wanting to include independents 
argued that pledge activities affected residential life, necessitating the involve- 
ment of non-Greeks. When the motion passed in favor of the independents, 
Pope tried to pass two amendments attempting to keep them from voting on 
committee issues. Both amendments failed, but "Pope took the floor once more 
to make another amendment, this time with no voting qualification attached . . . 
and kept talking," according to managing editor Ann Orth Nussbaum ('78). 

Hoping eventually to kill the motion using Washington-style politics, Pope 
read from chemistry and English books while disgruntled senators wandered 
about the room, waiting for him to finish. Because filibusters lasted as long as a 
senator remained standing, Senate could not adjourn. Forty minutes into Pope's 
"speech," however, students left the meeting and decided to continue the discus- 
sion at the February 5 Senate meeting. In an interview with Orth-Nussbaum, 
Pope felt he did the "right thing," even though senators left the meeting angry. 
"I just felt it was important enough that I should lose some respect over it," he said. 
Pope was effective in making his point, as Senate passed the independent 
non- voting status amendment on February 5. By the end of the ordeal, Senate 
minutes reported that the meeting lasted more than 340 hours — the longest in 

The Late 1970s: The Argus as a Police Blotter 

The news reported during the Pope scandal seemed trivial when compared 
with reports of campus attacks and break-ins that followed. The April 1977 
Argus reported a string of break-ins and assaults against members of the Alpha 
Omicron Pi (AOPi) sorority, forcing security to put the campus on alert. The 
newspaper reported that the AOPi attacks may have been related to the 1975 
murder of ISU student and sorority member Carol Rofstad. 

Security concerns returned one year later when The Argus reported how a 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 61 

female Gulick Hall resident entered the bathroom, opened the shower curtain and 
found a fully-dressed man in the shower stall. Another woman was showering in 
the next stall at the time. Though the man escaped and was never caught, he 
matched other descriptions of a prowler that had reportedly been seen elsewhere 
in the dorm. 

Improved security and safety programs (campus buildings received new 
locks and security systems, and security hired two additional people for night 
watch) had little effect the following fall. For the next three months, The Argus 
read like a police blotter. A September 22, 1978 article, "Late night attack... 
Muggers assault women," reported that two women were mugged while walking 
down Main Street in the early morning. One woman was hit with a club, and 
later received six stitches in her head. The Argus reported that the mugger made 
away with a three or four dollars. A week later, an intruder broke into the Kappa 
Kappa Gamma (KKG) sorority house and awakened two women before he 
escaped. No students were injured, but two additional break-ins, including one 
rape, had been reported the same night "within blocks of IWU." One Kappa told 
The Argus that fraternities should not raid sorority houses at the risk of getting 
reported to police. "We'd like you to tell people lock everything, shut the win- 
dows, shut the doors and put on alarms if you have them," she said. "We're real- 
ly jumpy now. We've got tennis racquets and things in the rooms now, and really, 
we could hurt someone and not mean to." (September 29, 1978). 

The week between September 29 and October 6 witnessed the molestation of 
five AOPi members and the rape of another. All were roommates and were 
assaulted by a man armed with a gun and a knife. Despite their tennis racquets, 
another intruder invaded the KKG house. Outside Wesleyan, three attempted 
rapes and one intrusion were reported to Bloomington police. 

As a result of the violence, The Argus reported an increase in the sale of tear 
gas and mace, and the addition of self-defense courses. The violence also 
prompted staff writer Elizabeth Martin Holdgraf's October 6, 1978 story, "What 
motivates a rapist?" Martin's article dispelled the myth that rape "is an act 
designed to fulfill the sexual needs of the attacker" and defined it "as a planned 
act of violence whose purpose is to dominate and humiliate another's body." 
The article also reported that "in 60 percent of the cases, a rapist will be married 
and lead a normal sex life at home." 

When the violence disappeared from The Argus front pages as suddenly as it 
had begun, an October 20, 1978 editorial reminded female students to be careful 
with the protective items they purchased and techniques they learned. "Women 
are armed these days," wrote The Argus staff. "They're equipped with whistles 
and sirens and discovering seventeen ways to break a person's ear drum without 
even trying. The safety steps are all very necessary, but use the precautions with 
caution." Despite the apparent paranoia, The Argus reported no injuries at the 
hands of mace-wielding female students the rest of the year. 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 62 

The 1980s: A Slow News Decade, Except for . . . 

The Argus covered one of the most controversial incidents of the decade with 
a story on administrative grade-changing, "Students protest grades" (December 
5, 1980). When business policy instructor Robert Lee gave A's to everyone in 
his Principles of Management 341 class, including some students who had 
dropped the course, administrators decided to re-issue grades on the basis of stu- 
dents' grade point averages. "I should give The Argus credit," Pamela Muirhead 
('68), then chairperson of the Faculty Advisory Committee, said. "The faculty 
did not know [of the situation], The Argus broke the story. This was one of the 
times that the newspaper was ahead of everyone else." 

As reported by staff writer Greg Jackson ('82) and managing editor Lora K. 
Weliky ('81), once Lee received notice that the university would not renew his 
contract for the following semester, he changed the class's format. "He would 
continue to present the material . . . but it would be possible just to earn a grade," 
The Argus reported. "Lee said he never told his class that they would all receive 
'A's' but according to students in the class, the implication was clear." The 
grades were turned in to Registrar James Barbour, who then alerted Dean 
Wendell Hess of the situation. According to The Argus, grades were changed on 
the basis of a student's past performance, how well the student had performed in 
his or her major and the student's overall grade point average. Hess declined 
comment to The Argus, and the administration gave no reasons for the grade 

Editorials fought the administration's decision to undermine professors' 
actions: "We must protest the University's actions. Once a teacher has given a 
grade, the grade must stand. This principle far outweighs the thought that an 
entire class may be assigned one grade. . . It is a matter of upholding the princi- 
ple that one lives by" (December 5, 1980). The editorial board, led by Tracy 
Higgins Fox ('81), urged Management 341 students to protest their "changed" 
grades in front of the Academic Appeals Board. Many students followed their 
advice, according to Muirhead, though the details of the Board's decisions were 
confidential and could not be printed in the newspaper. 

That fall, another scandal rocked the campus, a story so controversial that it 
was covered not only by The Argus, but also by the Chicago Tribune, Chicago 
Sun-Times, Newsweek, The New York Times and The Village Voice. When IWU 
English professor Robert W. Burda's second novel, Clinemark's Tale, was 
dropped by the Book-of-the-Month Club because of similarities to W. Somerset 
Maugham's The Painted Veil. A local bookstore sent back the copies it had 
ordered, and reviewers who had planned to devote space to the book suddenly 
dropped it. Burda was quoted in the local Pantagraph as saying that he took the 
plot and some of the language from Maugham in order to do a take-off on the 
novel, to turn it "on its male chauvinist pig head." 

The Argus did a thorough job of reporting the accused plagiarism for the 
February 15, 1980 issue, informing readers that editor-in-chief Don Thompson 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 63 

and news editor Cathy Aumack ('81) spent two and a half hours talking with 
Burda, in addition to reading both books in question. In a one-and-a-half page 
treatment, editors compared sections of text and included an extended interview 
with Burda. The reporters also asked tough questions, as, for example, why 
Burda told Newsweek reviewer Walter Clemons that he had never read Maugham's 
Painted Veil. The Argus reported that Burda said his interview with Clemons "got 
off to a bad start and ended with a tug-and-pull situation." Burda added, 

I found him extremely hostile with these types of questions and I was a 
little bewildered. . . . When we finally got to a point where he read a 
couple of lines from Somerset Maugham ... I said, "but the sexes are 
changed." There was a brief silence and then he said, "oh, ah yes," and 
it was clear that he didn't know the sexes were changed. ... A point 
was reached in the interview where I wouldn't respond to any of his 
questions about Maugham's book, "I guess I'll have to say I've never 
read the book." 
Burda dismissed the Tribune criticism as "phrase after phrase of lies" and told 
The Argus that the Newsweek article reached for its accusations of similarity, 
saying it took him six chapters to get to "a 'strangely similar' incident. What did 
I accomplish in those six chapters? Was I incompetent? My book is in a totally 
different genre. My book is a first-person novel, Somerset Maugham's is a third- 
person novel. He has no narrator, and the narrator is at the heart of my book." 

Editors warned their readers that they would have to read both books to 
make up their own minds, but followed with an editorial on February 22 which 
began, "The evidence is in." In it, they called for the university to act quickly 
and to "try [Burda's] use of Maugham's work just as it would judge a student 
accused of a similar violation," whether the verdict is innocent or guilty. The 
episode was brought to a close when Burda resigned rather than face possible 
action from the university's tenure and advancement committee. The lead story 
in the April 11 Argus began with a Burda quote: "T think enough's been written, 
or mis written, about the whole thing,' Professor Robert Burda said, turning away 
an Argus reporter. T just plan to write for the next couple of years.'" 

Other events covered during the 1980s had little relevance beyond 
Wesleyan's borders. The November 7, 1980 Argus reported how Brent Smith 
('84) used CPR to save a car accident victim's life. A 1985 fire that ravaged the 
fourth floor of Munsell Hall made the front page. All residents escaped injury 
but were moved from the hall until repairs were made. Caused by a misplaced 
cigarette, the blaze resulted in $35,000 in damage. Other top news stories 
included the fall 1980 opening of the Phoenix (an experimental music and drama 
arena) and the 1984 addition of the first two public computers in Sheean Library. 
Alcohol caused a stir once again in January 1985. A front-page article, 
"Dean pulls charter; Acacia prepared to fight" described the university's suspen- 
sion of the Acacia fraternity. News editor Greg Tejeda ('87) and editor Rick 
Linneman ('85) reported that yet another alcohol violation was responsible for 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 64 

the loss of the charter. Dean of students Glenn Swichtenberg had warned frater- 
nity members after previous alcohol violations that their charter would be 
revoked, but the warnings "seemed to have no affect ... I'm through playing 
games" (January 18, 1985). Acacia President Rick Herrick ('86) fought the deci- 
sion to no avail, believing his fraternity was "made an example of in regards to 
the alcohol policy and Greek life. Other campus groups supported Herrick's 
claim. The Argus featured photos of both independent and Greek residences sup- 
porting Acacia with signs of encouragement. After all previous members had 
graduated, the university permitted Acacia to recharter its chapter in 1988. 

Students expanded their questioning of authority to include more worldly 
issues the following school year. Student Senate approached the issue of 
Wesleyan investment in South Africa, in light of the anti-apartheid call for 
divestiture against the country. Senators drafted a proposal demanding the Board 
of Trustees reveal whether or not Wesleyan held investments in South Africa. 
The October 18, 1985 Argus said that the proposal called on the university to 
"acknowledge the 'immoral' nature of apartheid," notify Senate of any invest- 
ment in South Africa and tell Senate what actions Wesleyan would take against 
South Africa. 

With the help and cooperation of the administration, an article the following 
week, "Trustees denounce apartheid" (October 25, 1985), answered the student 
body's questions. Without denying allegations of South African investment, the 
Board of Trustees "joined a growing number of institutions voicing official 
abhorrence of the practice of apartheid in South Africa." The trustees also 
employed the help of the Common Fund Corporation in making future invest- 
ments. The corporation was a non-profit organization that helped educational 
institutions manage investments while considering "international social responsi- 
bility." The trustees organized a monitoring committee to examine Wesleyan 's 
portfolio of company investments. 

The Titans of Politics; The Argus and National Election Coverage 

Although most presidential elections have been covered, or at least men- 
tioned, in The Argus, political coverage did not become a mainstay in the news- 
paper until the 1960s. Television has made political candidates more accessible 
to the public, prompting an increase in student interest and Argus coverage. 

The first presidential race that received in-depth coverage by The Argus was 
the 1932 contest between Franklin D. Roosevelt and Herbert Hoover. The 
November 3, 1932 front page was a larger-than-life ballot with pictures of the 
candidates, and Argus editors, knee-deep in Republican country — McLean 
County, Illinois, which didn't even vote for favorite son and Democrat Adlai 
Stevenson during his runs for the presidency — chose to mark the Republican bal- 
lot (a subliminal hint to the readers?). Hoover may have lost the national elec- 
tion, but he won The Argus mock election by a landslide of 260 to 73 votes. 

Perhaps the campus elections jinxed the national outcome for the 32 years 
that followed. Wesleyan was unable to pick a winner until Lyndon Johnson 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 65 

became president in 1964, and seldom was the campus outcome even close. As 
reported in the October 28, 1936 edition, "If the national election were held 
today, and confined to the Wesleyan campus, the Republican candidates for pres- 
ident, governor and United States senator would be elected by a margin of more 
than three to two over their Democratic rivals." Landslide results in favor of the 
losing candidate also occurred in 1940, 1952, 1956 and 1960. Outcomes of the 
1944 and 1948 mock elections were omitted from The Argus in lieu of 
Homecoming articles. 

Though Wesleyan's students favored Richard Nixon over John F. Kennedy 
with a vote of 761 to 198, according to the November 8, 1960 Argus edition, the 
campus felt the national shock wave that hit when Kennedy was assassinated on 
November 22, 1963. The Argus paid homage to America's slain president in its 
December 6, 1963 issue. Though the news was not given front-page treatment 
(the assassination occurred just before Thanksgiving break, making it too late to 
be timely), three opinion pieces of grief and mourning appeared on page two. In 
"Greatest Tribute Continues Progress," an editorial encouraged Americans to 
carry on: 

Of all the tributes paid to our late President, perhaps this last fact is the 
greatest of all. For this country which Mr. Kennedy had so much confi- 
dence in and had given his all, his America — our America — was 
still moving forward. 
The Argus did not cover national politics in detail after Kennedy's assassination. 
News of Robert Kennedy's assassination and the Nixon Watergate affair were 
omitted from the newspaper. 

After the successful prediction of the Johnson presidency in the 1964 mock 
election, students continued to choose the winner in presidential campaigns. 
Nixon won the 1968 Wesleyan election by 63.4 percent of the vote. Ronald 
Reagan received roughly two percent of the Wesleyan write-in vote that year. 

From the time of the 1980 election, The Argus would become one of 
Reagan's most frequent critics. In the mock 1980 election, Reagan received only 
35 percent of the vote, placing him behind independent candidate and Illinois 
native John B. Anderson, who received 40.3 percent. Still, a November 7, 1980 
editorial (whether sincere or tongue-in-cheek) called for the campus to support 
the new president: "Ronald Reagan stands for all that America is: clean cut, 
heroic in a sad way; an old and decaying society. . . . We must encourage our 
new President in his desires to return to what is good in our past." Four years 
later, an editorial endorsing Walter Mondale for President said that "the dreams 
of a better country through better education" would die with Reagan's proposals 
to cut student loans and force other education cutbacks (November 2, 1984). 

The 1988 election brought George Bush to Bloomington/Normal on 
September 30, 1988. Speaking on the Illinois State University quad, Bush blast- 
ed Democratic candidate Michael Dukakis for his liberal beliefs and announced 
his "infamous" plan of "no new taxes." Managing editor Eric Gardner reported 
the event for The Argus, including the presence of anti-Bush demonstrators, not- 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 66 

ing, however, that their yells and protests could not be heard above the large 
Republican crowd. The campus correctly selected Bush as the winner, giving 
him 50.3 percent of the vote to Dukakis' 43.1. 

In 1992, editor Jennifer Barrell ('94) and managing editor Amy McCoy ('94) 
conducted an interview with future first lady Hillary Rodham Clinton at the 
University of Illinois' voter kick-off address. Information gathered in the inter- 
view and at the following address shaped an article which gave Argus readers 
information on the Democratic platform and its visions for health care and edu- 
cational reform. Since Barbara Bush never made it to town, Argus readers had 
to settle for Derek Roach's ('96) article on the McLean County GOP fundraising 
picnic to hear the Republican voice by way of Illinois Governor Jim Edgar and 
U.S. Senate candidate Rich Williamson. The rally focused on comparisons 
between the policies of Bush and rival Bill Clinton, which Edgar claimed was a 
"clear difference." According to Edgar and Williamson, Bush's tax-reduction 
policy and experience in international affairs were more desirable than Clinton's 
"inexperience" and "tax and spend" tactics. "This is not a time to put someone 
who has no experience in international affairs in the presidency," Edgar said. 

Despite the governor's plea, Clinton received 54 percent of the campus vote, 
while Bush and independent candidate H. Ross Perot received 35 and 1 1 percent, 

Politics and Political Correctness in the 1990s 

Often accused of being a liberal-minded newspaper through letters to the 
editor, the 1989-90 Argus gave front-page coverage to such politically controver- 
sial issues as abortion, "family values" (touted as an issue by the Bush adminis- 
tration) and condom distribution. During the 1992 election, articles not only 
reflected campus concerns, but also included local, state, national and interna- 
tional events. While one issue discussed the Liberian civil war, "Liberian crisis 
spans international boundaries" (November 13), another carried stories dealing 
with different levels of government elections (October 16). 

On April 6, 1990, The Argus' headline read like that of a major metropolitan 
daily, informing the campus that four IWU students were among 500 protesters 
arrested at an El Salvador march in Washington, D.C. One of the students' fore- 
heads was "gashed during the arrest process." The following week, "about 500 
people crowded the [Memorial Student Center's] Main Lounge to see psychedel- 
ic pioneer [Dr. Timothy] Leary debate [Curtis] Sliwa, founder of the Guardian 
Angels crime-fighting organization, on whether drugs should be legalized." The 
April 17, 1992 Argus reported that eight Wesleyan students were among 1.2 mil- 
lion to participate in a pro-choice march in Washington, D.C. Staff writer Julie 
Belinski ('94) described the magnitude of the event and the reason the students 
wanted to attend: 

The Pro-Choice March held in Washington, D.C. on April 5th was the 
largest civil rights demonstration in United States history . . . The chant 
stemmed from concern in the pro-choice movement that Roe v. Wade 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 67 

will be overturned this summer. One of the primary goals of the march . . . 
was to show that the majority of Americans are pro-choice. 

Not only did The Argus of the 1990s cover political and social issues, but it 
also focused on political "correctness." In an era when America felt the need to, 
at least verbally, accept everyone and political correctness became a cause, cam- 
pus activists made women's issues and gay and lesbian rights a priority. 

A March 1992 article reported the formation of the Gays and Lesbians of 
Wesleyan (G.L.O.W.), a support group for "those with homosexual concerns." 
Although 22 faculty members sent letters of encouragement to the group, only 
15 students attended the first meeting. Despite the small turnout, those 15 peo- 
ple built a foundation that provided weekly campus speakers and discussions for 
the IWU community. Less than a year later, G.L.O.W. caused a ruckus when it 
petitioned for a seat in Student Senate, according to The Argus, After weeks of 
deliberation, G.L.O.W. gained Senate representation by a three-vote margin. 

Women's issues were covereed by The Argus in the 1990s with articles con- 
cerning date rape and sexual awareness appearing on page one. When various 
political figures denoted 1992 the "Year of the Woman," The Argus had more 
reasons to feature women's rights and roles. Staff writer Deborah Obalil ('95) 
reported the address given by Eleanor Smeal, president of the Fund for a 
Feminist Majority, in "Activists call for gender awareness" (March 13, 1992). 
Articles such as this gave a feminist perspective to The Argus, covering topics 
from women in leadership roles to a "work vs. family" debate to women's politi- 
cal issues in an election year. 

The Argus has continued to cover national hot topics such as nuclear disar- 
mament, gun control, sexual assault, abortion, feminism, racism and AIDS 
awareness through reports on campus speakers or other campus tie-ins. For 
example, the December 3, 1982 front page told how "more than 100 IWU stu- 
dents, teachers and administrators crowded the Memorial Student Center 
President's Room to attend an open forum on racism," while the November 19, 
1993 Argus reported that "more than 125 people joined four IWU female profes- 
sors in the Davidson Room on Tuesday, Nov. 9 to discuss their ideas on and 
experiences with feminism." 

The reality of violence nationwide also has hit the campus during the 1990s. 
"An Illinois Wesleyan student was assaulted on Monday night at about 7:15 p.m. 
in a parking lot behind the old Bloomington Jr. High school," wrote news editor 
Julie Belinski on page one of the March 12, 1993 issue. The woman, who was 
on her way to dance class, advised other students to "never drive alone off cam- 
pus at night." The newspaper reported an even greater loss when former 
Wesleyan student and Argus staff writer Jennifer Lockmiller was found strangled 
to death in her apartment near Illinois State University on August 30, 1993. 
Lockmiller transferred to ISU to take part in the school's journalism program in 
1992 and worked as a feature writer for ISU's Daily Vidette. 

As The Argus centennial approached, one organization that lost its front page 
prominence was Student Senate. Editors reduced Senate meeting coverage from 

Chapter 3 Front Page News 68 

lengthy stories to a paragraph or two in "Senate Spot," a bi-weekly front-page 
Senate update. But because Senate still holds the purse strings for the newspaper, 
senators occasionally think The Argus should be more appreciative toward the 
hand that feeds it — meaning, more space and more positive treatment. 

The final front-page story of the decade has become a fixture in The Argus 
since 1989, repeating through 1993: Wesley an's No. 1 ranking among regional 
universities in the Midwest, as reported annually by U.S. News and World 
Report. Articles such as "Wesleyan captures top position in Midwest" (October 
13, 1989) and "Popular belief confirmed again . . . Wesleyan crowned #1" 
(September 27, 1991) have told how IWU has been ranked at the top of approxi- 
mately 130 regional universities in the Midwest each fall for the last five years. 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 69 




OCTOBER 17, 1917 
Bloomington, Illinois 

Volume- XXIV Number 2 

r.t\. k**t*\y 

Over there! (1917) 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 70 


The Argus Goes to War 

Each time America has gone to war, The Argus has responded differently, 
according to the public's changing perception of conflict. Still, the newspaper's 
coverage has consistently offered a look at war's effects on a student community 
thousands of miles away from the front lines. Stories on campus speakers and 
editorials played a significant role in shaping public opinion. Additionally, 
trends that The Argus observed — flag-waving patriotism during World War I, 
intense hatred of the Germans and Japanese during World War II, Korean and 
Vietnam War draft fears and protests — mirrored national attitudes. 

World War I: War Fever Hits Campus 

When Great Britain entered World War I on August 3, 1914, Wesley an 
rhetoric professor Lyde R. Porter was on a nine-person European travel tour. As 
a result of her timely travel, Porter wrote the first war story for page two of the 
September 30, 1914 Argus, "Some Experiences in the War Zone," describing her 
unplanned, extended stay in neutral Switzerland and her struggle to return to 
America. Without her passport — which was supposed to be forwarded to Europe 
but was delayed because of fighting — "it seemed impossible to cash our 
American Express orders, our banker's checks, and letters of credit, and other 
commercial paper," she reported. "It was utterly impossible to get word of our 
whereabouts to our anxious friends in America." Porter also witnessed the Swiss 
government's halting of cab, automobile and streetcar rides to conserve energy 
and its banning the use of telegraph lines for non-military purposes. On August 
18, after a 15-day stay in Berne, Switzerland, Porter's tour group boarded a long- 
awaited train for Paris while watching Swiss soldiers "throw up intrenchments" 
in case of invasion. By the time she boarded a ship to America, Porter was "glad 
to come home, but sick at heart over the devastation and desolation of a conti- 
nent at war." 

Porter's war sickness was not echoed elsewhere in the fall 1914 Argus. 
Instead, the newspaper tended to portray war as romantic, adventurous and even 
humorous. In an article discussing Professor Wilbert T. Ferguson's trip home 
from Switzerland, The Argus casually reported, "Professor Ferguson was fortu- 
nate to be in Paris the two days that the German aeroplanes hovered over the 
city, marks for sharpshooters, but no prey." 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 71 

In another account, "Letter From Professor Parlin: Relates Exciting 
Experience in Escaping from Field of War," students read not of bombs or trench 
warfare, but of Elwyn C. Parlin's adventure after being mistakenly arrested by 
the German army. "My unpolished German resembled so closely the German 
spoken by the French . . . and with my camera and tablet paper, I spoke with sus- 
picion," he wrote. After Parlin convinced German officers he was an American, 
the Germans shipped him to neutral Switzerland, where he could not cross the 
border since he, like Porter, never received his passport. Obtaining a certificate 
of identification at the border, Parlin "rode the 650-mile gauntlet of military 
trains to the Holland border" where he boarded a ship back home. 

While Dr. Harold H. Love's ('09) letter to The Argus of October 14, 1914 
related a less life-threatening experience, he portrayed more of a spirit of adven- 
ture than danger. Love described visiting Germany during wartime as a "privi- 
lege," and he was impressed by the German army. "The marching of the regi- 
ments to the railroads was an inspirational sight," Love wrote. "The German 
people are a great lover of flowers and the soldiers were much decorated with 
flowers and wreaths on their bayonets." 

But reports of slaughter and disease brought increasingly serious Argus war 
coverage as the 1914-15 academic year progressed. Front-page opinion articles 
throughout the year proclaimed that it was America's responsibility as a 
Christian and independent nation to end the European war. "The Opportunity of 
the United States" graphically challenged readers to picture five million men 
"engaging in the slaughter of human souls. I am sure that you have attempted 
such a picture, though it is probable that you have abandoned the undertaking 
when you began to color the soil with human blood." In another article, staff 
writer Roy L. Davis ('15) called on education and equal trade as peaceful war 
solutions, predicting the United States would lead formation of an "international 
commonwealth, court and police force." 

The Argus editorial board supported America's neutrality. "In peace, we 
grow stronger, we build up greater industry and commerce, and strengthen our 
position as a world power," one editorial said. "The warring nations are losing 
life, wealth, prestige, and blocking the progress of their own history." A 
February 24, 1916 article on former Illinois Governor Joseph Fifer, an 1868 
IWU graduate and Civil War veteran, confirmed these anti-war sentiments. In an 
address to the student body reported by The Argus, Fifer said that many argu- 
ments had been made to expand the Army and Navy since the Civil War, yet "the 
nation succeeded just as well without them." Fifer, whose older brother, George, 
was Wesleyan's first casualty of the Civil War in 1863, also believed that the 
United States would not enter the conflict. But on April 6, 1917, after German 
submarines had sunk five American ships the month before, President Wilson 
asked for and Congress voted to accept a declaration that a "state of war exists 
between the United States and the Imperial German Government." 

As a result, the May 3, 1917 Argus reported that all Wesley an men would be 
required to take military training (as would most U.S. collegiate males) during 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 72 

the 1917-18 academic year. Women were encouraged to enroll in Red Cross 
nursing classes at Bloomington's Brokaw Hospital. American nationalism flour- 
ished. A four-page article on "Wesleyan Patriotism" gave extensive coverage to 
an April 18 patriotic celebration of the campus' new flag and flagpole located 
just south of Hedding Hall. Amidst this day of flag waving, Star-Spangled 
Banner singing and 21 -gun salutes, students were told not to enlist immediately 
in the armed forces but to await military authorities' instructions as to "where 
they could be of most use." As The Argus patriotically said, "It is gratifying to 
every local Wesleyan student to know at this critical period Wesleyan is ready 
and willing to shoulder her share of the burden and take part in the great struggle 
which is now being raised for liberty, equality and freedom." 

The Argus staff gave impressions of the conflict page-one treatment. "What 
War Meant to the Senior Girl," for example, relayed an unnamed student's emo- 
tional distress over the number of male graduates who missed their final college 
days to serve their country. The war's uprooting of students made her realize 
how the conflict had changed Wesleyan and how women would have to rise up 
and bravely aid the boys overseas: 

Girls are not so light-hearted and frivolous as you had supposed. It is for 
the senior girls to show their bravery, courage and sympathy at home 
which their friends show on the field. Happy, cheerful thoughts and a 
calm spirit are a help and protection to those on whom you think and 
help perform their share in the war. (May 14, 1917) 
By the time students returned for the 1917-18 academic year, Wesleyan's 
students and alumni were playing active roles in World War I, and what was 
once sporadic war coverage in The Argus increased to two or three articles per 
issue. The first active-duty issue, which appeared on October 17, 1917, com- 
plete with a patriotic front-cover graphic, told how "war fever" had set in at 
Wesleyan. Even the peace orators who had been preaching international cooper- 
ation just one year before were now "devoting all their energies to the study of 
how to fight successfully for Uncle Sam," according to an editorial. President 
Theodore Kemp labeled World War I the "holiest cause ever undertaken by the 
country" and proclaimed that Wesleyan would be at its country's service. A 
semester later, the January 16, 1918 Argus reported more than 152 stars, repre- 
senting Wesleyan's 152 alumni and student soldiers, highlighted Amie Chapel's 
newly unveiled "service flag." At war's end, that number increased to more than 
200, with 14 white stars representing those who lost their lives. 

Despite Wesleyan's "war fever," The Argus preached a "stay in school" 

Our nation at present has as many men in its service or under call as it 
can equip and train. But in back of the soldiers in the camps and in the 
trenches there must be kept a far greater number of men who are study- 
ing in the colleges and universities. And in back of the Red Cross nurses 
in the hospitals there must be a great reserve of girls who keep on with 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 73 

their studies in the schools. This generation of American boys and girls 
must still have its college chance. (October 17, 1917) 

Those who took their "college chance" read about the war news from former 
student and alumni letters. In September 1917 Argus staff members, led by edi- 
tor Marion J. Austin ('18), contacted as many Wesleyan soldiers as possible in 
hopes that they would send word about their war experiences. Servicemen 
responded enthusiastically, in front page stories at first, then later in inside 
columns titled "Words from the Front" and "From the Army Mailbag." In return 
for their on-the-scene reporting, soldiers received free copies of The Argus. 

The first letter from the front lines appeared in the November 14, 1917 issue 
from Chaplain Jesse S. Dancey, an 1899 Wesleyan graduate serving in an Army 
base hospital near the Ypres front in France. Dancey wrote of the men wounded 
and dying around him but insisted that all "loved" the fact that they were fighting 
for a holy cause. "It is a great experience to see convoys of wounded coming in, 
worn to the limit with sleepless nights, days and nights of fighting, and weak- 
ened with loss of blood, but exhilarated with the flush of battle," Dancey wrote. 
"At the time, the loss of the leg, or an arm, or an eye seems of no importance 
when compared with the fact that the Germans are crumbling before their 

Dancey's description of the ultimate patriotism and unflagging morale of all 
soldiers might have been exaggerated. As a chaplain, he was part of a military 
copy-editing committee that made sure soldiers' letters did not leak confidential 
battle information or speak negatively about the war effort. Excerpts of a letter 
from Wesleyan student Paul Martin ('15) show the extent of such censorship. 
Martin appeared to know this when he wrote, "I would like to tell you all about 
our trip but cannot on account of the censorship regulations." Positive attitudes 
were prevalent in soldiers' letters, which focused not on battles, but on boot 
camp, cadet life and traveling. "I have talked with many English soldiers and 
they say [life in the trenches] is not so bad after all. They laugh at our fears," 
Martin wrote. 

If soldiers did not return letters to The Argus, the staff would contact their 
families or bases for information. The result would be two to three pages of 
Wesleyan "military profiles" that ran alongside soldier responses. Letters and 
profiles dominated the newspaper to the point that the February 14, 1918 issue, 
normally the Valentine's Day issue, contained no mention of Cupid or kissing 
coeds — only campus and war news. 

The Argus also reported war's effects on colleges around the globe. The 
enrollment situation was much worse overseas, according to "British 
Universities And The War," written by Latin and Greek Professor Francis 
Marion Austin. While Wesleyan had 110 student and alumni soldiers in Europe 
at the time of the January 30, 1918 article, Cambridge and Oxford, respectively, 
had 13,128 and 11,176 students and alumni fighting. More than 3,000 of those 
serving had already been killed; another 1,500 were missing in action. Despite 
the war, no American college or university was forced to "significantly diminish" 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 74 

its operations or activities, according to The Argus. The most outstanding atten- 
dance drops came at Ivy League schools like Harvard, Yale and Princeton, where 
male enrollment had decreased by over 3,000 since the 1916-17 school year. 

War took its toll on Wesley an's enrollment as well. At the start of the 1917- 
18 academic year, enrollment dropped 15 percent to 265 students (including 
those in the law school), with women outnumbering men 141-121 in the under- 
graduate college, according to university records. As the year progressed, more 
men enlisted in the service to the point where the commencement issue listed 
only six men graduating. 

The university sponsored speakers and events designed to boost war morale 
and combat the reports of death and destruction circulating in The Argus and 
other newspapers. One speaker, U.S. Representative John A. Sterling (1875), 
emphasized that the United States was a peace-loving nation and that Germany's 
sinking of American ships forced America into the war. Sterling assured his 
audience that America would quickly win the war, "provided her people buy a 
significant number of liberty bonds." Wesleyan tried to boost morale for soldiers 
overseas by sending books. In a page-two story, "More Books Needed for the 
Camp Libraries and Our Men 'Over There"' (March 14, 1918), the editorial 
board set a goal of "as many books sent from Wesleyan as she has in the ser- 
vice" — that number being 186 at the time. The newspaper believed that the 
"boys in khaki" who spent their leisure time reading would not only be better 
prepared on the battlefield, but better prepared for life after the war. 

Between spring 1918 and Germany's surrender on November 11, 1918, 
Argus war coverage continued with letters, military profiles and speaker stories, 
with but addition — obituaries. Fourteen Wesleyan men died during the war — 
three on the battlefield, the other 11 from severe illness, usually pneumonia. 
News of the soldiers' deaths came after the war ended, making postwar editions 
bittersweet. The same issue that reported the Armistice celebration also 
announced the deaths of five Wesleyan men. 

Not all postwar issues, however, were filled with doom and gloom. A 
humorous front-page article by Army chemist Mark R. Bodell ('15) contrasted 
life in boot camp with postwar adventures in downtown New York. Bodell com- 
pared his upstate New York boot camp experience to that of George Washington 
at Valley Forge. "We were living in tents during the cold spell, up to the week 
after Christmas," Bodell wrote. "One fellow sat down on his cot one night [for 
bed] and said, 'Well, I guess I'll undress now,' and removed his glasses. Instead 
of undressing for bed, we dressed" (February 22, 1918). 

Wesleyan rejoiced along with the nation at first news of the Armistice. 
According to the November 22, 1918 Argus: 

Shortly after two o'clock at the first sound of cannon and bells, 
Wesleyan students were awake and were ready to give full reign to their 
joy and enthusiasm. ... As the parade passed the university and Kemp 
Hall, the girls, throwing books and lessons to the wind, joined in the 
ranks to make them 100 percent strong. 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 75 

The Armistice party went on all night with classes meeting in the afternoon (not 
without protest, of course). The final World War I article, an editorial titled 
"Frontiersmen," proudly proclaimed that the war's end meant a new beginning 
for Wesley an: 

Why have so many of our recent campaign speakers told us that they 
envied the irrepressible enthusiasm and dauntless courage of our youth? 
Because it is the youth of our nation . . . who are to take the lead in the 
reconstruction of this, our new era. We are the Frontiersmen just as truly 
as the Pilgrim fathers were the frontiersmen of the greatest democracy in 
the world. (November 22, 1918) 

World War II: 
"One Hundred Percent All-out Cooperation in the War Effort " 

Although the January 14, 1942 Argus indicated that World War II "war 
fever" rose even faster than during World War I, The Argus editorial board 
offered students the same advice as it did in 1917 — prepare for battle, but don't 
forget about education: 

Certainly, this university will be hit by the war emergency, but if proper 
adjustments are made, she will not be hurt. But even more important 
than this is the post-war period. Students, by taking advantage of educa- 
tional institutions and their facilities must prepare to step into the world 
facing the gravest and greatest responsibility ever put upon a genera- 
tion — that of remaking the world — a world fit to live in and not to be 
killed in. 
The campus responded to this message with cotton in its ears. By spring, 
1942, five Wesleyan faculty members entered the armed forces to join another 
219 IWU students, faculty and alumni on active duty. (More than 1,110 
Wesleyan men and women served in World War II. Fifty-one gave their lives 
during the conflict.) The university even coined its own patriotic slogan — "One 
hundred percent all-out 
cooperation in the 
national war effort," 
which made its first of 
many appearances in a 
page-one article on 
January 14, 1942. The 
story presented adminis- 
tration dean Malcolm A. 
Love's wartime recom- 
mendations after he 
returned from an educa- 
tion and war conference 
in Baltimore, Maryland. 
He immediately 


A 1942 war bond advertisement. 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 76 


appointed a faculty committee to 
"improve the physical fitness of students" 
and "inaugurate the instruction of first aid 
for men students." (Love took a leave of 
absence to accept a naval commission the 
following year.) 

With the men away fighting the 
Germans, Japanese and Italians, women 
dominated The Argus during World War 
II. On both national and local levels, the 
decrease in available male workers pro- 
vided new openings for women in the 
working world. The newspaper had a 
string of female editors from 1942 to 
1946, and the 16-member 1943 editorial 
staff contained only three males. "The 
reason I became the editor was because 
all the men went to war. At that time they 
weren't giving much recognition to 
women," 1943-44 editor Margot Smith 
Lucas said. Other World War II editors 
recall similar experiences. Eleanor Ann 
Browns Fennelly ('46) edited The Argus 
in 1945-46 and remembers the search for 
male editors. "I'm sure [the university] 
wanted some men for editors, but there 
were very few men in comparison to 
women," she said. However, 1942-43 
editor Beth Mackey Stiffler viewed the 
female staffs of the 1940s not as last 
resorts but as a phenomenon that was 
long overdue. "I don't believe we were 
placed in our spots because there were no 
men around. Women were becoming 
more interested in journalism and were doing what they could to learn the pro- 
fession," Stiffler said. 

Wesleyan women not only took an active role in The Argus, but in the war as 
well. A number of stories told how Wesleyan's female-led Student Soldier 
Contact and War Record Committee helped boost soldier morale with daily letter 
writing. During the holiday season, the local YWCA sent soldiers care packages 
containing shaving soap, razor blades, candy, cookies and the latest Argus. 
Women also worked as "canteen aides" at the Bloomington train station, passing 
out goodies to traveling soldiers, while the IWU Women's League established a 

If you are an American citizen between 
20 and 56 years of age 



Wave Recruiting Headquarters: 
211 W. Jefferson St. 

(Illinois Hotel Building) 
OPEN 10:50 A.M.TO9 P. M. 

This Advertisement Sponsored By 


Making waves: Wesleyan women 
were encouraged to Join the war. 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 77 

Red Cross first-aid class of its own for 83 women. 

The Argus jumped on the "One-hundred percent all-out national war effort" 
bandwagon during the 1943-44 academic year. The editorial, "Are You Boosting 
The Red Cross and War Activities?" urged students to work in a newly complet- 
ed bandaging room and to buy and sell war bonds and stamps. "When the time 
comes, won't you plan on giving it some of YOUR time?" The Argus asked. "It 
may cost you a bit of effort, but is that comparable to what it's costing others?" 
Other editorials challenged students to "give up one Coke, one package of ciga- 
rettes, one show or some other little pleasure" to help American GIs. 

Along with the push to support the troops with money, editors wanted to 
keep in touch with Wesleyan's soldiers. The first-hand experience of watching 
their friends march away to war had Argus readers hungry for overseas informa- 
tion. "We were the first class at Wesleyan that watched men leave at the local 
train station, and that's when we really got serious selling war bonds and writing 
letters," Mackey Stiffler said. "We put a lot of emphasis on keeping in touch." 
Argus appeals definitely drew a response from the student body. The March 4, 
1942 issue reported Phi Gamma Delta fraternity's "new kind of Hell Week" sold 
$25,700 in war bonds. The February 10, 1943 issue reported that IWU topped 
its $50,000 war bond sales goal and posted total sales of $109,903.25. The 
Argus reported that the money was used to purchase two pursuit planes — one 
named Wesleyan. 

By the middle of the 1943-44 academic year, "war wasn't everything at 
Wesleyan, it was the only thing," and The Argus, occasionally featuring patriotic 
pictures of George Washington or Abraham Lincoln, expressed this with at least 
two pages of war coverage in every issue. Feature stories disappeared in lieu of 
war articles. "I think there was a more serious attitude on campus, and feature 
stories tended to be a little more frivolous. There was more of an effort to get 
stories about the war and selling war bonds," Mackey Stiffler remembered. The 
somber campus cut back on parties and the few Student Union, fraternity and 
sorority dances that were held frequently had patriotic themes. The Argus 
announced another book drive and ran a number of war bond advertisements. In 
addition, Illinois Wesleyan also started a government-commended Civilian 
Defense program consisting of 10 committees ranging from soldier contact to 
consumer information. Page one of the March 4, 1942 issue reported that 
Wesleyan's new course offering — a non-credit pre-induction military course — 
would help men "not be so handicapped upon entering [the service] since they 
will know something of military commands, courtesy, discipline and the manual 
of arms." A credit course in first aid was later adopted. The Army, Navy and 
Marines all ran widely publicized recruiting drives in The Argus and enlisted 48 
students in the reserves during campus visits. 

As in World War I, letters continued to splash The Argus with the war's 
details, this time including more graphic accounts. One of the more eye-opening 
letters came from Ed Dirks ('43), who left Wesleyan to join the Navy. Dirks 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 78 

thanked the editorial board for sending copies of the 1942 Homecoming issue 
abroad and expressed distress over the war's great length and the amount of 
"flag waving" in the United States. "Uniforms and parades and flags are won- 
derful, but they don't compare to the rain and mud, and blood and death that we 
guys out here see," Dirks wrote. "I have not personally experienced all of the 
war's hardships, but what I have seen, and what my friends from home have 
seen, has impressed our minds vividly with the magnificence of peace — and the 
horribleness of war." 

Nonetheless, the IWU administration offered students opportunities to finish 
college early in order to enable them to more quickly join the fight. According to 
page one of the January 21, 1942 Argus, the university established a 12- week 
summer session that, if taken twice, could replace a student's final year. Taking 
extra-credit hours could eliminate another semester. In the following issue, the 
newspaper reported that over one quarter of the campus "patriotically" registered 
for summer school. In turn, those students drafted by selective service received 
course exemptions. For example, liberal arts students who would normally meet 
all the requirements for graduation in June and were taken by selective service 
before completion were given credit for the last semester. 

Enrollment for the 1942-43 school year dropped to 621 students — 106 less 
than the previous year. The university lost 48 more students, according to the 
March 3, 1943 Argus, when all of Wesleyan's reserves were called to active duty. 
As a result, Wesleyan would offer classes 48 weeks a year by adopting a quarter 
system the next fall (March 17, 1943). The quarter system further hastened the 
graduation process, allowing a year's work in one subject to be completed in 12 
weeks. After the war, Wesleyan returned to the semester system. 

Reports of the Wesleyan community's bravery filled the newspaper during 
and after the war. Lieutenant Cecil Petty ('38) manned an Army transport plane 
through a storm after weeks of fighting at Guadalcanal and miraculously crash- 
landed the plane on a coral reef when it ran out of fuel. Ten days later, the 
Marines rescued Petty and 19 other soldiers who stayed alive despite being sick 
and wounded. Joe Joseph ('49) participated in a "miracle" bomb run that ended 
up saving a number of soldiers and journalists from German ground forces that 
were just about to open fire. Although Joseph and his comrades could not see 
their targets because of horrible weather, they were still able to bomb the 
German forces. 

Perhaps the greatest show of courage came from Lieutenant George R. Fox 
('32), a Methodist Army chaplain on the ship SS Dorchester. On February 3, 
1943, when German U-Boats torpedoed the Dorchester off the coast of 
Greenland, Fox and three other chaplains — one Catholic, one Jewish and the 
other Protestant — aided panicked soldiers with lifejackets and assisted them into 
the sinking ship's lifeboats. "From a box they distributed lifebelts and when this 
supply was exhausted, each, without a moment's hesitation removed his own 
precious lifebelt," wrote members of The Argus editorial board (January 10, 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 79 

1945). "These belts they gave to the next four men in line." As the ship plunged 
into the icy waters, "the men in the water and the men in the life boats saw the 
chaplains, arms linked, voices raised in prayer, standing together as the fated 
ship went down." The government later awarded all four the Distinguished 
Service Cross and, in 1948, issued a postage stamp remembering their bravery. 
The story also prompted the movie Four Men of God. In 1951, President Harry 
Truman dedicated the famous "Chapel of the Four Chaplains" at Temple 
University in Philadelphia, which was later moved to Valley Forge, 

As a balance to Fox's tragic story, an uplifting feature titled "Two Brothers 
Meet Across Half A World" appeared in the same issue. Sergeant James F. 
Thornton and Corporal George A. Thornton ('34), both of whom attended 
Illinois Wesleyan from 1932-34, had not seen each other for nearly three years 
since joining the service. Sergeant Thornton hailed from Bloomington and was 
stationed in Egypt, while Corporal Thornton lived in Springfield and served in 
Persia. With the help of the American Red Cross, they were finally able to take 
leave and meet in the Holy Land for eight days. Together, according to The 
Argus, they toured the Biblical sights, went to the donkey races, danced, shopped 
and swam in the Mediterranean Sea. "And to make their stay complete, they 
were billeted in the same tent, where they whiled away many hours just talking 
about their family, friends and home back in Illinois" (January 10, 1945). 

Even a trend story appeared as a result of war. The newspaper reported that 
college youths were postponing marriage plans as a result of GIs reporting to 
active duty (February 25, 1942). According to Student Opinion Surveys of 
America, only one-third of college students had marriage plans in 1942, com- 
pared to more than 50 percent the year before. The article also laid to rest the 
myth that the war caused "a rush to the altar" among collegians. In both 1941 
and 1942, only one percent of college students said they were already married. 
However, over 30 percent declared they would like to be married within two 
years after graduation, suggesting, perhaps, that many thought the war would be 
over soon. 

Those students would have to wait four years for the Allied victory bell, let 
alone the wedding march. The first step came when Germany surrendered to the 
Allies on May 8, 1945. As in World War I, news of German surrender appeared 
on page two of The Argus, since the newspaper had already set its front page sto- 
ries. The May 9, 1945 headline read, "VICTORY IN EUROPE: Germany 
Forced to Capitulate After Six Years of Fighting; Allies Face Big Job in Pacific," 
and the victory report was as dramatic as Wesleyan's war involvement: 

As the Germans capitulated, behind them lay the remnants of a once all- 
powerful army, which, like Napoleon's, underestimated the vast steppes 
of Russia, and then found the U.S. and Britain gathering force behind its 
back; behind them lay Germany's blackened cities and shattered railway 
lines, pulverized by Allied aerial attacks; and behind them in the ruins of 
Berlin reportedly lay Adolph Hitler's dead body. 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 80 

Although Berlin's capture was a gigantic step toward peace, Americans accepted 
victory with restraint, according to The Argus. America's focus shifted east, 
where Japan and the United States remained locked in battle. As these battles 
raged on, somber reports of some of the 5 1 members of the Wesleyan communi- 
ty who gave their lives for their country appeared on the inside pages of the 
newspaper as the 1944-45 school year ended. 

After the United States dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki 
on August 6 and 9, and Japan formally surrendered on August 14, the war was 
officially over. But the newspaper continued its coverage, reporting the return of 
soldiers, Red Cross workers and journalists. Page one of the August 31, 1945 
Argus reported that three former Wesleyan students, Sergeant Roger Rasmussen 
('44), George Thomas Jr. ('43) and Elmer Rylander ('43), "engaged in research 
leading to the perfection of the atomic bomb." Rasmussen, an electrical engineer 
who attended IWU in 1941-42, was one of the 160 people who witnessed the 
bomb's first test in New Mexico. Former Argus editor Everett Melby ('36) 
observed World War II in Switzerland as the assistant general secretary of the 
International Student Service — a group that organized student exchanges and 
international cooperation between universities. During the war, Melby organized 
refugee schools in southern France, Hungary, Romania and Poland. 

The most extensive coverage of postwar affairs occurred when editors 
devoted the entire four-page April 25, 1945 issue to the "Dumbarton Oaks 
Documents, Proposals for the Establishment of a General International 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 81 

Organization." The documents outlined a proposal for The United Nations to be 
discussed at a conference in San Francisco. Attending the "Frisco Parley," 
according to the front page of the May 2 Argus, was former Argus editor John 
Fremont Melby ('34), then vice-consul of the United States embassy in Russia. 

With the fighting over, The Argus reported that enrollment swelled from 523 
in the fall of 1945 to a total of 846 by the end of 1945-46 academic year. The 
university provided temporary housing for 60 veterans and 12 faculty members 
at East Bay camp on Lake Bloomington 13 miles northeast of IWU, and at the 
Hamilton Hotel, formerly located on East Front St. The university acquired 
transportable housing units, better known as "the barracks," from an army camp 
in Weingarten, Missouri the summer of 1946. While the units did not have 
plumbing and heating facilities, veterans admitted to The Argus that they did not 
mind and "were just happy to be back." Three weeks later, IWU began con- 
structing Annie Merner Pfeiffer Hall, which housed 122 veterans its first year. 
Pfeiffer later became a women's dormitory when the need for veteran housing 
declined during the 1950s. 

Military Visitors Invade Wesleyland 

The Wesleyan community sent many members to the armed forces during 
both world wars, and the military returned the favor by supplying Wesleyan with 
cadets. President Theodore Kemp told the November 8, 1918 Argus that 
Wesleyan was one of 300 institutions selected for the Student Army Training 
Corps (SATC). Much like the present-day Reserve Officer Training Corps pro- 
grams, SATC prepared collegiate men for active military duty while allowing 
them to obtain a degree. According to university records, it attracted 260 men to 
campus, increasing the College of Liberal Arts' enrollment by 181. (Total uni- 
versity enrollment grew to 606 in 1918-19.) To accommodate SATC, the 
Bloomington Association of Commerce erected a mess hall and barracks north- 
east of the quad. "Most of the SATC men are getting more discipline than they 
ever had before in all their lives," wrote Argus reporters in "Impressions Of 
Barracks Life," adding that "they are learning the lesson of obedience, a lesson 
which few men have fully learned." 

Although SATC classes had just begun in October, the December 6, 1918 
Argus announced the disbanding of the program. With the war over, the govern- 
ment could no longer financially support the program. Despite SATC's short 
stay, the university benefited, since many cadets finished their education at 
Wesleyan after SATC had ended. Their presence, along with an influx of veter- 
ans, boosted enrollment to 961 for the 1922 academic year. 

The university also served as a training center for two military sectors during 
World War II. For more than a year during World War II, 40 Navy aviation 
cadets from across the Midwest occupied Kemp Hall, which they nicknamed the 
"U.S.S. Wasp." Another 38 from a dismantled Illinois State University program 
transferred for the 1943-44 school year. Cadets usually spent half the day at 
Wesleyan and the other half at the airport learning to fly. "The cadet's life isn't 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 82 

all hard work and study, however, for they are permitted to have town liberty on 
Saturday and Sunday of each week," The Argus reported. "And what cadet isn't 
already aware of the local feminine splendor that inhabit this fair village?" The 
cadets held numerous dances and also participated on Coach Cecil Russell's 
1943 2-4-1 football team. 

In addition to focusing on cadets' social events, which were usually printed 
in a "Navy Notes" column, The Argus ran a series of personal profiles on some 
of the flight trainees. One of the more humorous articles profiled the cadet's 

There are no WAVES or Navy Nurses aboard the U.S.S. Wasp. To the 
discouragement of many cadets, there is only Raymond Dumas, 
Pharmacist Mate 3-c. . . . Thanks to the Navy ruling about no female 
nurses on the ship, the patient's blood pressure doesn't rise when Dumas 
goes to work. (October 13, 1943) 
Other cadet profiles told of career goals, favorite foods, most memorable 
moments and, like their SATC counterparts, the beauty of Wesleyan's coeds. 

The Navy unit left campus on July 27, 1944 "because casualties among 
Navy flyers have not been as heavy as had been anticipated," according to The 
Argus. Wesleyan's training facility was eliminated and the university remodeled 
the U.S.S. Wasp back into Kemp Hall, a women's dormitory. 

The Argus Versus the Enemy 

In addition to fostering a sense of American pride in many newspapers, 
World War II also created intense animosity toward Germany and Japan. In this 
too, The Argus was affected. The first hate article appeared when Eleanor Ann 
Browns Fennelly covered a speaker on postwar security, Vera Michaels Dean, 
for the October 18, 1944 issue: 

No peace terms, however just and lenient will seem satisfactory to the 

Germans — even to the anti-Nazi Germans. A certain number of 

Germans will have to be relieved of their existence. ... In executions, 

military policy rather than legal policy should prevail. ... If Nazi leaders 

are merely banished, they will be living martyrs — always a potential 


Dean declared Berlin "the ugliest city in the world, enough to depress any 

German" and suggested the capital be moved after the war. Dean also said 

America should occupy Germany for 60 years after the conflict to rid the Nazis 

from the planet and supervise education. 

A few Argus articles did not show much respect for the "Japs" (as the news- 
paper referred to America's Pacific enemy). The staff even printed an Allied 
leaflet that was dropped over islands near Japan, which used propaganda to scare 
the Japanese: "One bomb after another brings destruction and death. Your Air 
Force cannot protect you. Why continue resistance and cause further useless 
shedding of blood?" But propaganda was a two-way street, according to United 
Press International foreign correspondent Robert Bellaire, who told of his experi- 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 83 


ences as a Japanese war prisoner at 
the 1942 Associated Collegiate 
Press convention in Chicago. 
Japanese soldiers told prisoners of 
war that Japan "had invaded 
California and was moving east; 
that the president had been assassi- 
nated, and that Japanese military 
men were in power in the White 
House." Bellaire also said the 
Japanese provided one tub of water 
a week for 30 guards and 70 prison- 
ers and that Americans were not 
allowed to talk or exercise. 

Stories like Bellaire's made 
Americans wary that Japan's spies 
and military actually were living in 
West Coast states, and the govern- 
ment sent 110,000 Japanese- 
American citizens to relocation cen- 
ters as a result. The May 13, 1942 
issue featured a letter from former 
Argus editor Mary Fran Payne ('40), 
then a journalism student at 
Northwestern University, urging 
Illinois Wesleyan, "a Christian uni- 
versity, a liberal university," to "take Japanese students evacuated from the West 
Coast" (May 13, 1942). The May 27 editorial reported that Wesleyan was one of 
100 midwestern colleges asked to take students of Japanese descent "who, 
because of war regulations, are not able to finish their college work on west 
coast campuses." The FBI approved the plan and would periodically "check" 
the students. Though the "problem" was to be decided by straw vote in chapel 
that day, the following Monday's paper carried no news of the results, nor was 
the vote mentioned in faculty or Board of Trustees minutes. Only the appear- 
ance of several Japanese- American transfer students in the 1945 Argus and 1946 
Wesleyana would indicate the result of the vote. 

Korea: "War Fever" Dies Hard 

After President Merrill J. Holmes returned from a trip to Washington, D.C. 
in October 1950, The Argus reported that "for the second time within a decade, 
the presidents of American colleges and universities were called together last 
week to discuss the contribution their institutions could make to national ser- 
vice" (October 20, 1950). Although the nation was only partially mobilized for 
the Korean conflict, according to Holmes, one delegate at the convention thought 

cost mone«f • 


Propagandist war bond ads such as "Slap 
That Jap" showed blatant disrespect for the 
Japanese (1943). 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 84 

the United States was involved in World War III. But Wesleyan was not moved. 
During the Korean War, articles and editorials did not express the same patrio- 
tism as those during the two world wars; war fever was apparently buried with 
the 51 soldiers who died during World War II. With less campus enthusiasm, 
The Argus did not devote as much space to the Korean War as it had to earlier 
conflicts. Jim Ridenour, Argus editor during the 1952-53 school year, explained 
that "this wasn't a war like Vietnam. There was much less publicity and much 
less activity because most people were supportive. Strange as it may seem now, 
the war never entered the back of my mind [in relation to Argus coverage]." 

Five months after the conflict began, editor Lennie Genung ('52) wrote a 
two-part series, 'The Argus Visits: Korea," which presented his impressions of 
the country from a 1947 visit: 

The country probably has the lowest sanitary conditions that exist any- 
where. The people dress very crudely in dirty clothes that have seldom 
seen soap and water. . . . Their food is very small in portion and has a 
very peculiar and nauseating smell. . . . Homes are bamboo with mud 
walls and thatched roofs without much exception. Heat is provided by 
an after- a-fashion open fireplace in the homes. 
In an editorial, Genung accused the United States of "saying one thing but doing 
another" with Korean foreign policy. During his visit, he said he noticed a num- 
ber of permanent American military bases being constructed on Korea's south- 
western coast with new schools and living units. Genung found this American 
construction quite peculiar because the United States, since the end of World 
War II, had said its policy was to keep South Korea as "weak" as possible so it 
would not invade the Russian-occupied North. Genung used The Argus to 
express his belief that America was justified in mobilizing South Korea, because 
he said the Soviet Union had brought 300,000 "communized" refugees back to 
North Korea, along with 2,000,000 native Koreans who had been fighting as 
communist guerrilla troops. "With this nucleus Russia established a communist 
'People's Republic' and army upwards of 200,000 well equipped men," Genung 
wrote. He argued that the Soviet Union coaxed North Korea to invade South 
Korea on June 25, 1950. 

The May 2, 1952 Argus reported that the Korean War was taking its toll on 
Wesleyan's enrollment and budget. Because of a drop in federal aid, the admin- 
istration laid off 12 faculty members and increased tuition for the next year. 
Enrollment, which soared to 1,073 students for the 1950-51 academic year, 
plunged to 778 in 1952-53 because of rising costs, fewer course offerings and 
more enlistments, according to an Argus editorial. 

War news usually ran on inside pages and only when the government offered 
Selective Service testing, or when a student or alumnus wrote a letter to the 
newspaper. An exception to this trend was an editorial that urged students to 
donate blood for Army M*A*S*H units: "An average of nine pints of blood is 
needed for every man wounded. Lives could be saved if only someone had not 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 85 

been too busy or afraid to give a pint of blood." A November 9, 1952 story, 
"Letters to Ike Urge Korea Cease Fire" told how the Save Our Sons Committee, 
a group of relatives and friends of those serving in Korea, organized a statewide 
letter-writing campaign to president-elect Dwight D. Eisenhower for an immedi- 
ate cease fire. It urged students to join the campaign and included a sample let- 
ter: "It is criminal that thousands of American youths continue to be maimed and 
killed. . . . Millions of Americans are looking to you to act on their behalf of 
these youth and end this useless slaughter." 

The Save Our Sons Committee received its wish when the war ended eight 
months later on July 27, 1953. Unlike World War II, issues following the Korean 
War did not contain news from the front, military profiles or obituaries. Only 
one article appeared, reporting that 38 Korean War veterans enrolled at Wesley an. 

Draft Concerns and ROTC Hopes 

The Argus voiced its concerns with the draft even before it became a national 
issue during the Vietnam War. On page one of the February 14, 1951 Argus, 
President Holmes wrote that the program for drafting 1 8 year-olds for 27 months 
of Korean War service was more "drastic" than the conscription systems of 
Russia, France, Italy, Belgium, Britain or Denmark. The Argus editorial board 

Twenty-seven months, we feel, is entirely too long to expect any man to 
serve when the rest of the country is not under complete mobilization. 
Many veterans of the last two wars never saw their second year in uni- 
form, much less began to work on their third. This certainly is not 
democracy, with everyone sharing responsibility for the safety of the 
country. (February 14, 1951) 
When Congress suggested that college students be deferred from service 
because of necessity "to the maintenance of the national health, safety or inter- 
est," students in good academic standing were deferred until graduation. (The 
IWU Registrar's office has no record of students being drafted, nor did the news- 
paper report any being drafted in either the Korean or Vietnam Wars.) If gradu- 
ates did not find employment after 30 days, their deferment expired. 

As in World War II, various branches of the military recruited on campus 
during the Korean War. According to The Argus, an Air Force cadet program 
offered students a year of military training and a salary of $105 per month. After 
this first year, cadets became second lieutenants and received $415.75 per month 
while on active duty for three years. Although the Air Force program was allur- 
ing, it required students to drop out of college, something President Holmes con- 
sidered unacceptable. The December 15, 1950 Argus reported that Holmes was 
"seriously contemplating" the installation of an Army ROTC Unit at Wesleyan 
to guarantee a degree and military training while, in the same issue, an Argus 
survey said 81 of 100 men would join a campus ROTC unit. 

After a long wait, ROTC bypassed Wesleyan, but Holmes' desire for a mili- 
tary plan that guaranteed graduation were met in the next academic year. 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 86 

According to the January 9, 1952 Argus, students could enroll in the Marine 
Corps Reserve officer training program. Students only had to take two six-week 
summer training courses to qualify, provided they maintained good academic 
standing. The program did not require training during the school year, and upon 
graduation students gained a second lieutenant rank and $213.75 per month. 
"This program rates a lot of merit," the editorial board wrote. "Service life seems 
to be an eventuality these days and the PLC program (Platoon Leaders Class) is 
as good if not better than any of the college service-training courses offered." 

In 1965, as the United States rapidly increased its presence in Vietnam, draft 
concerns arose in The Argus once again. A January 7, 1966 statement by nation- 
al Selective Service director Lewis B. Hershey said that the government would 
defer as many collegians as possible, but depending on the circumstances, some 
would make the journey to southeast Asia. However, in an April 22, 1966 inter- 
view with registrar Daniel S. Oborn titled "IWU male students not draftable — so 
far," Oborn said the university was not communicating with the draft board, as 
many male students had thought. Despite this fact, IWU added a military sci- 
ence requirement, "Introduction to Army Life and Jungle Warfare," which began 
in summer semester 1967, to aid students who might be drafted. As college stu- 
dents gained military deferment, enrollment jumped from 1,283 students in 1964 
to 1,729 students by 1968 and remained steady at this level through the 1970s. 

Vietnam: Controversy Erupts, Even at Wesley an 

College students nationwide demanded immediate troop withdrawal from 
Vietnam as early as September 1966, according to an Argus College Press 
Service article. The 19th annual congress of the U.S. National Student 
Association (USNSA) voted 181-83 that all offensive military operations in 
Southeast Asia cease. With over 400,000 American troops in Vietnam at the 
time, students also recommended gradual abolition of the military draft, with ser- 
vice in the United States Peace Corps or social work replacing service in the 
armed forces. The congress said that communist North Vietnam must be recog- 
nized and included in peace negotiations. 

Popular opinion at Wesleyan differed drastically from that of the USNSA, 
according to The Argus. Despite the student congress' recommendations, a 
November 10, 1967 article "Campus sampling indicates Vietnam support," 
reported that a "majority" of students and faculty supported the war. (The article 
failed to provide statistics.) "It makes no difference who wins the Vietnam war, 
we'll all have to die some day," declared an unnamed IWU faculty member. 
"The war is merely an episode of the decline and fall of the western civilization." 
Most students polled expressed Cold War animosity as reason to fight. 
According to one freshman, the war was "halting a Communist threat to 
strengthen democratic policy." But not all students agreed. "I don't feel we are 
fighting for democracy, freedom, liberty and all the other high sounding words 
we pound into the 19 year-old GI's heads, but are fighting to save a certain 
somebody's face in Washington," said Kenneth Saito ('69). 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 87 

Speaker stories and articles focusing on campus guests provided most Argus 
Vietnam War news from 1965 to 1973. In fact, more speaker stories appeared 
during the Vietnam years than during any other war. The first, written by Cindy 
Fairburn ('67), focused on a Northern Illinois University professor's negative 
opinion of U.S. involvement in Indochina. Students heard more divergent points 
of view when the IWU Convocations and Religious Activities Commissions co- 
sponsored Vietnam Week — a three-day forum which attracted the highest atten- 
dance rate among campus activities in "recent memory" and dominated five 
pages of the November 17, 1967 Argus. 

Speaking on behalf of the forum's pro-war side were Mutual Broadcasting 
System correspondent Craig Spence and University of California at Los Angeles 
professor and foreign analyst William R. Van Cleave. Both contended that the 
People's Republic of China would spread communism throughout all of 
Southeast Asia if the United States pulled out of Vietnam. Spence, who had 
recently returned from South Vietnam, said the real war taking place was 
between the United States and China. "If this were merely a civil war in 
Vietnam, I'd say, 'fine, let them have at it,'" he said. "But it isn't. There are 
thousands of Chinese in North Vietnam, and they aren't tourists." 

On the anti-war side, Straughton Lynd, a Chicago State University history 
professor, and Vivian and Richard Rothstein, representatives of the American 
Friends Service Committee, said that they opposed the war because they felt the 
United States misunderstood the North Vietnamese. Lynd called U.S. policy 
"external fascism" and said troop withdrawal would result in Ho Chi Minh's 
government winning popular support. The Rothsteins, part of a 40-member 
American delegation who met with the North Vietnamese at a peace conference 
in September 1967, supplied Wesleyan with a more critical view of the U.S. "As 
far as I'm concerned, the United States is invading South Vietnam," said Mrs. 
Rothstein. "The North Vietnamese are fighting a moral war; they're fighting for 
the independence and protection of their people." 

Reports of student war protest at Oberlin, Harvard University and University 
of Illinois hit Argus pages in January 1968 after the North Vietnamese launched 
the massive Tet Offensive, termed by historians as the war's turning point. 
Protest also rocked Wesleyan's conservative campus. The May 3, 1968 Argus 
reported that more than 600 students attended the first protest event, which fea- 
tured speeches and readings from 10 faculty members and students. Paul 
Bushnell, an IWU history professor, accused the United States of "trying to build 
a colonial empire." Bushnell also denounced people that viewed Vietnam pro- 
testers as unpatriotic or cowardly. The new definition of "patriot," he said, no 
longer meant one who dies for his country, but one who, unfortunately, kills. 

During the 1969-70 school year, the campus literally came to a halt when 
faculty and students voted in favor of a moratorium on October 15, 1969, to dis- 
cuss pro- and anti-war viewpoints. Over 1,000 students attended the debate, 
which ultimately revealed a campus-wide anti-war bias. President Eckley and 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 88 

administration members participated in a night session of the debate, where 
financial aid director Lynn Nichelson said skyrocketing war costs were cutting 
IWU federal education aid. The November 21, 1969 edition of The Argus 
reported that Wesleyan and Illinois State students visited 375 Bloomington- 
Normal homes looking for signatures and donations to stop the war. In addition, 
Student Senate expressed its anti-war position by voting to remove U.S. troops 
from Vietnam in a 30-2 vote, while the faculty voted 43-23 to adopt a resolution 
condemning North Vietnamese treatment of American prisoners of war 
(November 7, 1969). The School of Drama denounced Vietnam by presenting the 
anti-war productions "Lysistrata" in 1970 and "Oh What a Lovely War" in 1971. 

Despite growing anti-war sentiment, The Argus still received and printed 
pro- war opinions. One letter to the editor, "Soldiers repudiate 'coward'; Marine 
Defends Asian War," demanded respect for the government's position in 
Vietnam. Thomas H. Keeslar ('69), who was serving in artillery-shelled Da 
Nang, Vietnam, wrote, "There are some people that snuff these men and their 
loyalty to their country, ideals and morals. ... Is loving your country so wrong? 
Is trying to protect home, family and loved ones wrong?" Keeslar concluded 
that U.S. troops were fighting for a country that wanted to be free and referred to 
congressmen who opposed the war as "the draft dodgers and draft card burners 
of the past." 

Although American troops remained in Vietnam until 1973, President 
Nixon's withdrawal of 500,000 U.S. troops between 1969 and 1972 resulted in 
less Vietnam coverage (pro-or anti-war) in The Argus. In fact, Nixon's success 
in removing the "Red Curtain" between America and China actually drew praise 
from "political editor" Paul W. McVicker ('72) in an August 27, 1971 column, 
"U.S.-China move improves peace:" 

Peking's willingness to develop closer diplomatic relations with 

Washington at this time, presumably indicates that China is willing to 

see a negotiated settlement of the Vietnam War. President Nixon's 

actions . . . have changed history and created what is probably the most 

significant development in international relations since the close of 

World War II. 

Page one of the January 12, 1973 Argus reported a controversial 22-20 

Student Senate vote to send $300 to the Medical Aid to Indochina Committee. 

"Arguments for passage were based on the premise that the people of Indochina 

are not enemies of the people of the United States and due to the damage done 

by U.S. bombers all twenty-six provincial hospitals in North Vietnam are in need 

of medical supplies," the article said. Arguments against the motion questioned 

Senate's right to spend student activity fees in this manner. Others felt the $300 

should be used for on-campus activities and not donated to outside organizations. 

Regardless, the donation to a former enemy indicated that IWU students wanted 

peace in Indochina. That peace (at least for American troops) was reported on 

page one of the January 26, 1973 Argus in a collage of headlines from national 

newspapers, with a caption beneath that read "Lest we forget." 

Chapter 4 The Argus Goes to War 89 

The 'Hundred Hours' War 

The student protests and domestic violence of the Vietnam War marked a 
turning point in the way the nation and The Argus regarded war. On August 2, 
1990, nearly 100,000 Iraqi soldiers invaded the tiny Persian Gulf country of 
Kuwait. In response, President George Bush sent 200,000 American troops into 
Saudi Arabia later that month as part of an international coalition named Desert 
Shield; the president also sent a mailing to college newspapers, obviously having 
learned the lesson of Vietnam. Like colleges across the nation, The Argus ran 
Bush's address to students in the January 18, 1991 edition. 'There is much in 
the modern world that is subject to doubts. . . . But not the brutal aggression of 
Saddam Hussein against a peaceful, sovereign nation and its people," Bush said. 
"We have the chance — and we have the obligation — to stop ruthless aggression." 

The Argus' first mention of the war appeared on September 14, 1990 with 
two College Press Service wire articles dealing with student draft concerns. Not 
until October 5 did the newspaper print a student-written article, "Conscientious 
objection allows personal alternative to war ..." which reflected students' fears 
of a reinstated draft and their attempt to avoid fighting overseas. The idea of 
conscientious objection — allowing those who morally object to war to abstain 
from participating it — was a popular idea in The Argus, appearing in three of the 
12 articles about the Gulf War. "Many of us have a natural fear of going off to 
war, largely created by the possibility of returning in a box," staff writer David 
Barrett ('92) wrote. "However, for those who fear killing another person as much 
as losing their own life, there is an alternative." 

Once the air war began on January 16, 1991, The Argus asked in an editorial, 
"Should Kuwait be our responsibility?" (January 18, 1991). Instead of the all- 
supporting staffs of World Wars I and II, this editorial board asked students to 
think twice about backing President Bush's Iraq attack. But, "While Bush is 
'unambiguous' about the Middle East crisis, let us be 'unambiguous' in our sup- 
port for the men and women of the military representing the United States." The 
following week, the staff continued to support the troops in "Soldiers in Gulf 
need our support." Editors asked students to write to the two Wesley an soldiers 
who were stationed in the region. The Argus may not have agreed with the war, 
but it did finally agree to support those who were fighting it. 

Many students felt the war's impact when the university decided to call back 
overseas January term travel courses. According to the January 18, 1991 edition, 
the decision to recall students in eight courses was prompted by "a mix of 
parental concern and a prudent response to a State Department terrorism alert." 
All of the approximately 200 students safely returned to America along with 
their course credits, despite not completing the classes. The university absorbed 
between $10,000 to $20,000 to bring students home early, according to the 
February 15 newspaper. 

In the aftermath of the Gulf War, the February 21, 1992 Argus reported that 
education professor George Churukian would go to war-torn Kuwait as IWU's 
first faculty member to win a Fulbright Scholarship. 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 90 


Editorially Speaking 

The Argus Knows Best 

In its early years, The Wesley an Argus pledged allegiance to "the Wesley an," 
perhaps because the university press printed "The College Paper" and the faculty 
chose the editorial board. In fact, the faculty thought the selection of a responsi- 
ble staff so important that the April 18, 1899 minutes reported, "The election of 
the Argus staff was made the special order for the next meeting." But if the uni- 
versity had twisted a few more student arms to guarantee participation, early 
staffs would have been hard pressed for editorial matter. One out of four editori- 
als pleaded (with varying degrees of intensity) for students to "serve" their uni- 
versity newspaper. Like the staffs who would follow, the 1894 editors began 
with high energy and higher goals, outlining their ambitions in the first editorial 
of the year: 

we shall labor diligently to . . . publish a spicy and interesting paper for 

our fellow students to enjoy, a paper which will be loyal to the university 

and to the students. ... If we succeed in our purpose, and put upon a firm 

basis a college paper of which the students will be proud, we shall feel 

well repaid for the arduous labor we know awaits us. (September 17) 

Subsequent editorials revealed that Clarence E. Snyder's (1895) staff had no 

idea how arduous the labor would become. By January 14, 1895, editors were 

begging students to write for the newsaper, using a most transparent flattery: 

"We have in our midst abundant talent to fill several papers. . . . Let some of this 

super-abundance of ability be turned into the Argus channel." 

Editors the following year tried guilt, instead. A series of editorials, all three 
titled "Write For The Argus," appealed to students' sense of duty: "[Editors] 
have their school work which must be attended to and the thought of the empty, 
hungry columns of the Argus is a burdensome one to them" (October 4, 1895); 
"Only by the hearty co-operation of the students can we hope to merit the sup- 
port that has been granted us, nor will we be able to issue a paper that, in the 
truest sense, will be representative of the Wesleyan" (November 15, 1895). In 
the end, the editors resorted to strong-arm tactics, for the third editorial of the 
series reported, "We doubt if more than three or four of the contributed articles 
published this year have been voluntarily offered us" (April 4, 1896). 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 91 

When The Argus wasn't recruiting writers, it was busy promoting other cam- 
pus groups. Editor A.L. Wood (1896) and the 1895-96 editorial board used the 
power of the pen to boost participation in the nearly extinct Adelphic and 
Munsellian societies. When the newspaper proclaimed the literary societies to 
be "in a deplorable state" due to low membership, an October 4, 1895 editorial 
appealed to both Greek and independent students: 

College spirit should ever be stronger than "frat" spirit, and the best way 
for the Greeks to show whether there is anything to their claims for 
innate superiority is to smother their Hellenic prejudices and join enthu- 
siasitically with their Barbarian friends in making the societies what they 
should be. 
Student response was evident from the January 24, 1896 editorial, which 
observed, "It is gratifying to be able to note . . . that there is an increase of inter- 
est in the work of the literary societies." It was the first time in Argus history 
that an editorial had a significant impact on campus life. 

School spirit and pride ran high during The Argus ' first few decades, as illus- 
trated by the 1899 staff's decision to reprint the commencement poem from the 
previous year — one which heralded Wesleyan as the "College of the Plains" 
(May 1). It's no wonder, then, that early editorials mostly promoted school loy- 
alty and decorum. In addition to encouraging participation in everything from 
athletics to glee club, The Argus was almost parental in its bi-weekly editorials, 
advising students how to behave well and admonishing them when they didn't. 
Student pranks often fell victim to criticism from the editors, as in this response 
to one not-too-terribly-practical joke: 

We fail to see what pleasure was derived by placing the burro in chapel 
unless it was thought that the janitors did not already have enough work 
to keep them busy, or that his donkeyship would enjoy being carried up 
and down stairs. . . . Anyone who can gain enjoyment out of such perfor- 
mances is surely out of place in this institution, and has proven himself 
unfit for association with intelligent men and women. (April 10, 1896) 
Illinois Wesleyan must have continued to admit "unfit" students, since the 1897 
editorial board complained about IWU student fans at a contest hosted by 
crosstown rival Illinois State Normal University, where "recently the enthusiasm 
of a number of our students degenerated into vulgar rowdyism," though "we 
received fair and courteous treatment from Normal, and hope that she under- 
stands that the better sentiment of the Wesleyan frowns on such manifestations, 
and is determined to stamp them out" (November 20). 

The 1898 editorial board preached moderation: "The recent 'pranks' com- 
mitted by some of the students have had an enlivening effect upon the general 
student body. . . . When there is an evidence of friendly rivalry existing between 
different classes of students it points to a healthy condition of the college life." 
The newspaper declared that "as long as there is no serious rupture of law and 
order, such pranks may be indulged in with impunity" (December 15). 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 92 

The Argus Learns to Talk (Back) 

Although editorials from the first two decades replayed the same themes — 
show up for recitals, show up for debates, show up for football games, always go 
to chapel, and when you go to chapel, behave yourselves — by the turn of the 
century The Argus was bold enough to directly criticize the administration. In 
"A Question Of Rights" (April 15, 1899), the newspaper attacked a university 
policy which allowed the children of ministers and students studying for the cler- 
gy to pay only half of their $39 annual tuition and fees. The Argus reported that 
"not a few" students criticized the practice because it represented "an unjust dis- 
crimination exercised in giving to a certain class of students advantages which 
are denied to others." According to the editorial, some students who were 
receiving this privilege were quite capable of paying full tuition, while others 
who could not afford it struggled to pay. Despite The Argus' advice that some 
"remedy" be found which would offer similar discounts to those in need of 
financial aid, the ministerial tuition discount was offered until 1918. 

The 1899 staff was a fiesty lot, for in the same issue they also took on anoth- 
er university practice, one shared by colleges all across the country. The Argus 
argued that the "'sheep-skin' and degree received upon the completion of a col- 
lege course ... are supposed to represent the fruits of hard study and conscien- 
tious work," and that "precaution be taken so that these emblems of mental 
worth and mental achievement be not cheapened or invalidated." The editors 
concluded that nothing cheapens a degree as much as "conferring degrees indis- 
criminately upon various dignitaries of state and church." 

Faculty minutes from June 13 of that year recorded "a number of applica- 
tions for honorary degrees," out of which a St. Louis judge, a local judge and a 
local minister were selected. Whether or not the Board of Trustees read The 
Argus, two days later they decided to limit or at least better control the awarding 
of honorary degrees. According to the June 15 minutes, the Board ordered "that 
no degrees hereafter be conferred by this university until they be first considered 
by the faculty and be submitted by the committee on degrees to this board." 

In addition to printing more "conduct" editorials on walking quietly through 
the halls, being prompt for class and paying bills on time, turn-of-the-century 
Argus staffers were also consumer advocates — but with an ulterior motive. 
"Hearken Thou" (October 28, 1904) told readers, "Don't you for one moment 
believe that the payment of your subscription is all that is expected of you. . . . 
Nearly all of our ads are 'trade ads,' that is ads which are to be paid in merchan- 
dise or trade." Notes appeared throughout the newspaper reminding students, "It 
will pay you to read the ads" and "Mention The Argus when buying." Editors 
neglected to mention that they were the ones who received the goods and ser- 
vices from all trade ads — one of few "perks" in those days, and one which prob- 
ably was never questioned as a potential conflict of interest or threat to free press. 

As late as 1911, the staff also was using its editorial space to plead for a per- 
manent newspaper office. In "Quarters For The Argus Staff' (January 25), they 
wrote that "at present there is not a single shelf or a drawer where material can 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 93 

be held in common for use by the staff of editors." Their request fell on deaf 
ears, however, and editors did not find a permanent home until 1948, when The 
Argus moved to the basement of Buck Library. 

A Method (ism) to their Madness 
The first non-editorial opinion appeared in 1902. "The Observer," a column 
which ran only once, mocked students from the United States' "larger colleges." 
Through a Plato/Roy ko- style dialogue with "a young graduate," the anonymous 
columnist poked fun at the "educated lady's" discussion of all the subjects she 
was "finished with," and yet "she had not found out that the courses she took in 
geology, psychology, etc., were only doors to the larger field — knowledge as a 
whole. She had not caught a glimpse of the higher intellectual life beyond, 
which but reflects the higher moral life, yet she was educated" (December 4, 

According to a November 25, 1905 editorial, devotion to a complete, moral 
education was one of Wesleyan's largest selling points and dearest ethics: "If 
you wish to loaf stay at home, we will have no drones in the Wesleyan," the edi- 
tors wrote. "Loose mental habits breed loose physical habits and these in turn 
undermine morals and destroy character." After President Theodore Kemp told 
the newspaper, "I do not believe that the average student here is working as hard 
as he should," The Argus took no offense, but instead exhorted students to 
"buckle down to business and show ... the faculty what we can do" (February 
23, 1910). 

It wasn't only self-discipline that concerned the 1910 staff. When the uni- 
versity suspended several students for hazing, The Argus neither defended nor 
condemned the sophomore "hair-cutting" tradition, but called for radical change: 
The methods used by the sophomores in initiating the freshmen were not 
held even by the freshmen themselves as acts of violence and vandalism. 
The cutting of the freshmen's hair has for a number of years been the 
standard Wesleyan joke. It can not be a surprise to anyone, then, since 
the whole body of students tacitly approved of the doings of the sopho- 
mores, that they should have sympathized to a man with the fellows who 
were suspended. 
The editorial asked for what amounted to a fantasy: the establishment of a "stu- 
dent board of control of college discipline" to deal with such cases in the future. 

For the most part, editorials from 1900-14 supported faculty policies. The 
December 21, 1911 Argus backed the faculty's new cheating policy which 
"would mean a very serious thing to the one convicted." The newspaper sug- 
gested that students adopt better study habits and that professors should remain 
in classrooms when administering exams. 

Even when the university cracked down on another "vice" — dancing — The 
Argus supported the decision. A February 22, 1912 editorial tried to calm the 
"agitation . . . over the recent ruling of the faculty in regard to the question of 
dancing." Editors reported that from 1909-12 "a great number of dances have 
been given in the name of Wesleyan University, not directly by organizations of 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 94 

the college but by alumni of the institution . . . contrary to the standards and laws 
set down by a Methodist institution." According to The Argus, this violation 
provoked a number of complaints from parents, enough that the faculty voted to 
bring "serious trouble" to any students caught dancing on campus. The Argus 
backed the faculty on its decision 100 percent, arguing that "every true, loyal 
student will feel that the new ruling will not be one to cause a decline in the plea- 
surable social side of Wesleyan society, but will mean much good for the whole 
institution and a better name for our university." 

The university's dance ban must not have lasted long, for by the 1920s The 
Argus reported that the highlight of most fraternity parties was singing and 
dancing. A March 12, 1931 editorial congratulated Student Council for opting to 
hold an all-campus dance and hoped that "the faculty will be well represented as 
this is an affair for the entire school" (March 12, 1931). 

The Argus' enthusiasm was not shared by members of the Board of Trustees 
who debated whether to ban the hedonistic practice for good. One Board mem- 
ber introduced this resolution: 

Whereas, on Saturday evening, April 18, 1931, there was held by the 
student body, for the first time in the history of the university, an all 
school dance in the Memorial Gymnasium, and, Whereas we, the Board 
of Trustees and Official Visitors of the Illinois Wesleyan University, 
believe that such functions lower the moral and spiritual plane that the 
school has maintained since its organization ... be it Resolved, that 
hereafter no dancing by any group, sorority, fraternity, or by the student 
body as a whole, shall be permitted or allowed on the campus of the 
Illinois Wesleyan University, nor shall the Illinois Wesleyan University 
permit or allow the student body to hold an "all school dance" off the 
campus, and be it further Resolved, that these resolutions be published in 
the Bloomington Pantagraph, the Wesleyan Argus, and a copy be spread 
upon the records of the university. 
The Argus never received a copy to publish, because, as the June 8 minutes 
recorded, "after considerable discussion, a motion to adopt was lost." 

In 1917, The Argus came to the defense of the young men on campus who 
were preparing to become ministers. When the "scholastic standing of the vari- 
ous organizations in Wesleyan was posted in the main hall a few days ago" and 
the Oxford Club, "an organization composed of the young men who are prepar- 
ing for the ministry . . . received no little 'gaff ' due to the fact that the preachers 
stood at the bottom of the class," the editors wrote that "the joke has been car- 
ried far enough," and with rhetorical flair set the record straight: 

It was due to no crooked work on the part of the one who averaged the 
grades that the "chicken eaters" were forced to accept the cellar champi- 
onship. Neither was it due to the fact that same bunch is composed of a 
lot of weak-minded clodhoppers. In fact a comparison of individual 
grades would reveal some most excellent marks secured by the young 
divines at the close of last semester. (March 1) 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 95 

The editorial pointed out that the "sole cause of the low standing" was that three 
of the fifteen Oxford Club members were forced to miss school because of ill- 
ness, and because all three "drew zero grades in all the work carried during half 
the year" the "loss was too great for even the higher averages made by several of 
the others to over-balance." 

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum 

In 1912, editor Wayne W. Calhoun ('13) was the first to expand the editorial 
page to include opinions other than those of the staff. In "Equity" he concluded 
that "if the paper is the college paper with the college news on its pages then the 
opinion should be the college opinion" (March 11, 1912). Calhoun outlined a 
plan to achieve a healthy balance by publishing "all the beliefs of the college 
men and women" in a column to be captioned "Public Opinion." He decided to 
publish the letters anonymously, so when the first appeared on March 25, it was 
signed only, "A Junior." It also took students a while to grasp the concept of a 
free-speech forum. One student all but genuflected in signing his letter "I am 
yours for the welfare of the ARGUS," while another letter closed, "If this sug- 
gestion [to improve the condition of Wilder Field] meets with your approval, I 
would thank you for the space in this column to give it to the students" (April 26, 
1912). The editors added an endnote explaining that 

the real purpose of . . . this column was that any individual whose beliefs 
on college affairs conflicted with those of the Argus . . . might have the 
advantage of an open column. Thus any consevative opinion no matter 
on what subject, agreeing or disagreeing is entitled to a place in this column. 
By 1990s standards, other letters printed as columns were as conservative as 
they were few in number. "An Underclassman Student" suggested that seniors 
be shown more respect (as at other universities) because it would "add much to 
the dignity of the school" (April 11, 1912), while another politely asked that stu- 
dents receive more time to get from chapel to their next class. When school 
began again in the fall, editors revived the column but added a new wrinkle and a 
disclaimer: "This year, articles must be signed, and the name of the writer will 
be published. The editor assumes no responsibility for articles published but 
reserves the right to return letters deemed unsuited for publication" (October 10). 
The new rules apparently scared students off, since the following issue published 
the Public Opinion banner with no letters underneath it. When the first "letter" 
finally appeared in the December 12 issue, it was under a new banner — "Current 
Comment" — and turned out to be nothing more than an exchange reprint from 
Nicholas Murray Butler, then president of Columbia University. Until the 1916- 
17 school year, editors used Current Comment strictly for quotes from famous 
people, announcements of other campus events and pronouncements from non- 
IWU academics. 

The campus never really warmed to the idea of a public forum, even when 
editors returned to a policy of anonymous contribution. Only a few letters 
appeared over the next seven years, and even then they were none too controver- 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 96 

sial. "Another Junior," for example, wanted the university to designate a regular 
night for YMCA prayer meetings (December 12, 1917). As editors would 
lament in the January 21, 1921 issue, "Practically every year an effort has been 
made to get student life to express itself. Practically every year The Argus has 
had a Department of Public Opinion which has just been taken on faith and never 
been put into use." In their plea, editors asked for letters but conceded, in an 
effort to elicit more of a response, "we will ask you to sign the article, although 
your name will not be used in publishing it unless you desire." 

That ploy also failed. Except for a few letters from off-campus writers, real 
non-editorial opinions did not appear again until October 14, 1926, when The 
Argus printed a serious guest editorial on academic effort by William Jaques 
('27), along with phoney letters to the editor obviously intended for the enter- 
tainment of readers. 

Flappers and Professors 

If the editorial page is any indicator, Wesleyan students were as caught up by 
questions of moral behavior as young people everywhere. But while their coun- 
terparts let loose, Wesleyan students buckled down to help fashion an image that, 
in 1994, still persists: IWU as a study-minded institution. A March 17, 1922 
editorial compared what would later be called the "Lost Generation" to the 
Roman empire at the start of its decline. The writer, who called himself a 
"Roman Fan," bemoaned that everywhere 

it's jazz, jazz, jazz, all the time jazz. Where will it end? The women 

with their wine drinking and all that. They have lost the virtues that put 

Rome where she is today. And the men. They are nothing but lounge 

lizards. They no longer display Roman manhood, but are becoming soft 

and effeminate. 

Likewise, a June 2, 1922 editorial on "The Flapper Again!" observed that 

"The Flapper is so much discussed in the papers and in conversation these days 

that it is becoming tiresome." The editors wrote that they "did not cast any 

reflections" on the writers who are "advancing theories on the modern girl and 

her conduct," but questioned, "aren't there other things that are very dangerous 

to the young people of today, that are being ignored . . ?" 

College itself was apparently among the hazards. A January 22, 1925 editor- 
ial polled professors (all wanting their names withheld) in order to answer the 
age-old question, "Why Do College Students Flunk?" The survey drew respons- 
es that would have rattled Dr. Gallup himself. The first cause of failure on 
Wesleyan's campus? "Some students are 'rattle brained' or lacking in real men- 
tal capacity to grasp the facts presented . . . One professor asserts that 10 per cent 
of all college students are in the group of the mentally unfit." The second 
"class" included 

the student who hasn't learned how to think . . . then there is the lazy 
student who may have gray matter but it is largely unfarrowed. . . . 
Another type of student is the one who is 'just going to college' ... a 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 97 

ship without a sail, drifting and consequently doesn't get far. 
The leading cause listed may sound familiar to students since the 1920s: "too 
many irons in the fire." The editorial concluded that the faculty was sympathet- 
ic, but advised that "students are here through their own choice, and if other 
climes seem fairer they are free to try these other climes." 

According to The Argus, the university's image was growing during the 
1920s. While F. Scott Fitzgerald was writing about The Great Gatsby, Argus 
staffers were writing about a "Greater Wesleyan," describing a school which, 
after years of hard work and sacrifice, had finally arrived to occupy "a pinnacle, 
a mountain height, a spot in the sun" (April 8, 1924). Editors embraced the "new 
rules, higher tuition" ($185 per year) and stricter grading as a necessary student 
"contribution." But the editorial board also related the anecdote of a recent high 
school graduate who said, "Me go to Wesleyan? I guess not! I'll never go to 
that preacher's college, they're too strict." In closing, editors embraced a fre- 
quent theme, calling for voluntary chapel attendance so that high school seniors 
wouldn't be "frightened away to another market by the rumors" of dissatisfac- 
tion at Wesleyan. 

The March 10, 1927 editorial argued, after learning that IWU was the only 
school at a local conference to have a faculty member on its student council, to 
"can" the faculty member (March 10, 1927). (In 1932-33, the constitution of the 
new Student Union would make the faculty member an adviser only, with no 
voting power and "subject to removal at the discretion of the Student Union.") 
Another editorial argued that "Campus 'Cans' Should be Barred" — "cans," in 
this case, meaning cars: 

There is a rapidly growing tendency among college men to believe that a 
university is a place to learn and ride. . . . Campuses resemble automo- 
bile shows nowadays, and gas stations rival bookstores in business pro- 
ceeds. The young plutocrat parks his snaky roadster beside the Omicron 
Omicron Ford, and cut down flivver rub fenders with furnished limou- 
sines. Students study between jaunts, and a recalcitrant motor means 
more than a flunk. The boy whose car carries the doggiest signs and 
cleverest novelties eclipses the A student in popularity. (May 7, 1926) 
Editors wondered 

how on earth one can learn when he owns a "wreck"? The odds are too 
great. The thought of an open road is more alluring than the thought of 
an open tome, and a purring motor is more fascinating than an instruc- 
tor's voice. What young man wouldn't prefer to take out a co-ed rather 
than a library book? Automobiles are too expensive for the college 
youth . . . gas, oil and general upkeep run into big numbers. The cheap- 
est car costs at least seven cents per mile to operate. Campus 'cans' are 
a black eye to any school. Parents look with disfavor upon a college 
which looks like a race track. A college town that is cluttered up with 
freak automotive apparatuses gives a bad impression to numberless 
prospective students. 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 98 

Other editorials called for students to develop charm, good sportsmanship and 
school spirit. 

Are We Informed Yet? 
Editors near the end of the 1930s asked, "Are we informed [about national 
issues]?" And a quick perusal of the decade's editorials provides the answer: 
not hardly, since only a handful dealt with national issues. Even Hitler's rise to 
prominence only provoked this curiously detached editorial, printed here in its 

History was made last week by the man whom the New York Times calls 
the most powerful leader the German people have ever known in the his- 
tory of their country. Adolf Hitler drove over to Austria, his birthplace, 
and changed the map of Europe. Now people are wondering whether he 
will continue his ride over to Czechoslovakia. Watch closely, students, 
this is history. (March 16, 1938) 
Most editorials were concerned with traffic closer to home. The February 
19, 1931 issue included a quote from Uncle Tom: "It shore looks bade. De 
Profs shore is gwine to make it tough on us poor kids. The first ting yu know 
dey will start a campaign agin de girls reserves and de boy scouts cause de kids 
might be enjoyin demselves." To that, the editors added, "We are almost of the 
same opinion, Uncle Thomas. There is now a resolution on foot to keep the stu- 
dents from running to class. This won't affect Wesleyan folks, however for it's a 
tough enough job to even get them there." The same issue featured a Swiftian 
"Modest Proposal" which, tongue in cheek, suggested that the curriculum be 
revamped to focus on athletics, along with a straightforward editorial calling for 
the administration to institute a "one semester probation period" for all faculty 
hired. Administrators and faculty must have thought they had picked up an 
April Fool's issue to read the Argus proposal, whereby 

At the end of the semester we could call the student body together — 
those who have had contact with [the professor] — and vote their 
approval or disapproval. If the professor has proven his ability during 
this period, a student committee can recommend him to the board and 
his contract can be drawn up. If he is found unfavorable to the students, 
dismiss him. 
Again, to no one's surprise, the suggestion prompted no great reform. 

How progressive were students of the time? A January 17, 1939 editorial 
included a brief list on "Argus Projects for Progressive Wesleyan": 

1 . A live student body. 

2. Organized cheering. 

3. Pep Band uniforms. 

4. Support of Student Lounge. 

5. Desirable Chapel programs. 

Other editorials of the decade dealt with chapel behavior, "selling" IWU to 
friends and other prospective students, laughing in the library, fraternity rush 
rules and Wesleyan's "eyesore" (Wilder Field). Another praised the start of 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 99 

"Wesleyan Night School," a 12- week offering of "eight practical business cours- 
es in addition to fifteen general cultural courses" to be offered "to interested 
townspeople." Editor Virgil Martin praised the plan. "The name 'Wesleyan' will 
now become synonymous with the names of other institutions, such as Scripps in 
the West, Harvard in the East and Rollins in the South," he wrote (March 9, 1932). 
Students were indeed image-conscious. An editorial seven years later began, 
Once upon a time, there was a college in the middle west. It wasn't a 
very big college, but everyone says that quality is better than quantity, 
anyhow. The students of this college were very proud of their school, 
and dreamed of the time when everyone from coast to coast would rec- 
ognize its name. There was just one thing lacking. The students didn't 
have any place where they could relax, or play cards, or dance, or just 
listen to the radio. (February 21, 1939) 
The editor went on to praise the administration for providing a student lounge, but 
wished that it had not fallen into such disuse that the lounge was eventually closed. 

The Home Fires 

Despite the war in Europe, old topics continued to find space in the editorial 
pages, among them student behavior in chapel — or rather, m/sbehavior: 

Paper airplanes still persist in assembly. Granted (and we don't) that the 
balcony dive bombers are British, we can hardly accuse the main floor 
of being Nazi followers — therefore, why the barrage? (May 28, 1941) 
Yet, three days after the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor, an Argus editori- 
al reported that "Amidst all the excitement the students on this campus have 
remained sane; they have not gone into hysteria. These are the proof of an intel- 
ligent and educated body" (December 10, 1941). 

Indeed, intelligent student concerns forced the editorial page to expand to a 
"double truck" to accommodate all the letters that would fill two pages on the 
average — letters for which editors had been pleading for more than four decades. 
In one issue, for example, an editorial on "What Lies Ahead" recognized that 
"the thought of isolationism" is gone and urged the people of the United States to 
"accept their responsibility as World citizens" (January 14, 1942). It also con- 
tained a letter from editor Dale Mehrhoff ('42), who wrote, "The most madden- 
ing thing I have ever done is to read the Argus files of 1917-18," adding that he 
hoped the United States would profit from the lesson of the first war, as well as 
the war in progress. The Argus also chose to print a letter to a Wesleyan music 
major from her brother, who was serving in the Hawaii Territorial Guard when 
Pearl Harbor was bombed. He gave this eyewitness account: 

The radio announced it in the morning during the attack. The anti-air- 
craft guns were firing all over. Until 3 Japanese planes dived very low 
over River St. I thought it was all Maneuvers. I saw the emblem of this 
Rising Sun on the wing tips. . . . The populace are all heated over the 
discriminate bombing of civilians. ... Do all you can for our Country. 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 100 

Ironically, a guest editorial in that same January 14 issue called not for econ- 
omization, but for extra lighting in Hedding Hall. "Wesleyan's darkest hours are 
not the war years ahead," the anonymous author wrote, alluding to Franklin D. 
Roosevelt's radio address, "but are indeed those hours spent in Hedding Hall 
between 8:00 A.M. and approximately 5:00 P.M." 

Apparently, IWU students were not alone in their provincial thinking. The 
February 18, 1941 editorial page featured the results of a nationwide college sur- 
vey and reported that "almost half of the men are planning to do engineering 
work, to teach, or to go into private business. Comparatively little pessimism 
was manifest upon the campuses over the country." Life went on. 

In addition to speaking out on civilian morale and patriotism — "Fifteen 
Points, Be On Guard Against Axis Propaganda!" and "Let's Beat The Axis with 
Brains!" (April 15, 1942) — students were drawn to more immediate home-front 
concerns. The January 28, 1941 issue devoted its editorial to the new end-of- 
semester exam schedule. In previous years, a final exam week had been set 
aside for two-hour tests; "this year exams [were] given the last week of the 
semester during the regular class hours." According to The Argus, both profes- 
sors and students blasted the soon-to-be-scrapped system. The editorial pointed 
out that if the idea was not good enough for "the school down the street" five 
years ago when they tried it, why would the administration think it would be 
effective for Illinois Wesley an now? 

During a time when Wesleyan women were making scrapbooks for the 
U.S.O. and the campus was raising money for the bond effort, one seemingly 
frivolous open letter from "The Girls of Wesleyan" caused a big stir. The writers 
complained that not enough men showed up for dances, and when they did, they 
arrived with off-campus dates. The "girls" challenged every fraternity and men's 
club to "require their pledges and their members to have one Wesleyan date a 
week" (February 11, 1941). A week later the editors reported that "whether the 
girls struck a sore spot" or not, 

only two men undertook the task of answering the girls' letter and both 
of them failed to sign their names, which automatically prohibits us from 
printing them. Several ugly threats were made by various 'men about 
the campus' regarding what they would tell the girls by giving a return 
performance on The Argus editorial page, but somehow these rumors 
failed to materialize. (February 18, 1941) 
The editors called for responses, "caustic or otherwise," but the men never 
spoke out. According to the February 25 Argus, as a direct result of the letter, a 
"Spinster Week" would give Wesleyan women the chance to initiate the dating, 
carry books, open doors, and handle other chivalrous tasks in a week endorsed 
by "all four leading student organizations": Pan Hellenic, Independent Women, 
Inter-Fraternity Council and Independent Men. Phyllis Ann Smith ('42), presi- 
dent of Pan Hellenic, told The Argus that females "were glad of an opportunity to 
show the men how it should be done and that the girls would enter into the project 
with some of the enthusiasm which seems to be lacking in the conduct of the men." 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 101 

Other wartime editorials called for victory gardens, paid tribute to war corre- 
spondent Ernie Pyle and Franklin D. Roosevelt, questioned "hell week" during 
wartime and espoused what it meant to be an American. On November 8, 1944, 
the editors chided students for having "proved how much they think of our fel- 
lows fighting overseas, when they failed to support last week's drive for funds to 
mail the Homecoming edition of the Argus to them." One week later, a sarcastic 
editorial gave the update: only $11.50 was counted in the "cigar collection box." 
Eventually, with the cooperation of the Alumni Office and Gummerman's 
Printing, The Argus sent the special October 25, 1944 issue overseas to 910 men 
and women in the military. 

In the 1940s, columns frequently appeared on the editorial pages. The most 
prevalent and long-standing was "The Green Room," written by a succession of 
people — a mixture of theatre reviews and backstage gossip. Occasionally the 
column reviewed speakers on campus, and when Wallace Dace ('43) called a 
visiting professor's chapel talk "a 50-minute torrent of interventionist propagan- 
da," so full of "rot" that he could "scarcely refrain from laughing at him," a letter 
followed. Two students complained that the column was "entirely out of place in 
a college newspaper" (May 20). And while they said that they believed it "vital 
to the [economic, rather than political] life of America that Hitler be defeated," 
they concluded that "no safe policies and actions are going to be molded by the 
aroused temper, sarcasm, and confusion that were exhibited in the above men- 
tioned article." 

Although it ran on the society pages instead of editorial, "The Witcher" was 
loaded with opinions. The Hollywood-style column told all and aggravated 
most. On a small, private campus, few students appreciated reading their names 
in the highly personal column. Certainly not Barb, who had to read that "since 
her split with Johnnie, has been seen with Wilfred, Ken, and Buck." And cer- 
tainly not the Sigma Chis, after one of their members was reported as wanting 
"to de-pin a cute Kappa initiate," which "seems to be a habit with these Sigs to 
carry on their custom of cut-throating" (February 25, 1942). 

It's no surprise that the column was sporadic, running most consistently from 
1935-36 and 1941-42. While it was around, however, it produced its share of 
letters to the editor. One student complained, "Who's business is it if a girl 
wears a fraternity pin within the confines of her own sorority house, or if a fel- 
low doesn't choose to date on campus but carry a torch? I, for one, do not 
believe it is mine — nor is it reading material for the Wesleyan student body" 
(March 4, 1942). Shortly thereafter, The Witcher went from page three to page 
none — though columns like "With Malice Towards Some . . ." would rise up to 
take its place, beginning in 1946. 

Postwar Years: The Beat Goes On 

The war may have ended, but the struggle had only begun. Open letters 
from the American Red Cross reminded students that their donations and sacrifices 

Chapters Editorially Speaking 102 

were still much needed. That sentiment was echoed in a May 26, 1946 editorial 
which called for each student to help by not leaving "a half-eaten roll on his 
plate or in any other way waste that commodity which is so vital to millions on 
the other side of the globe." Most IWU students apparently were willing to con- 
tinue giving. As in wartime, The Argus reported the many fundraising and 
morale-boosting activities of fraternities, sororities and campus clubs. This issue 
told of 30 soldiers from the Mayo hospital in Galesburg who were to be guests at 
a Kappa Delta picnic and dance, with more such "entertainments for convales- 
cent soldiers" to be sponsored by the campus Red Cross unit. 

A few students, however, were less giving. The following week's editorial 
tried to explain to complainers why the Tuesday night "starvation meal" was 
instituted. In accordance with Herbert Hoover's admonition that "it is unthink- 
able that we do not feed our enemies," The Argus reasoned that starving humans 
were "more like ravenous beasts than like men, and if we ignore the starving we 
are condemning our soldiers to perpetual danger and uprising." Money saved 
from the missed Tuesday meals would be donated to the cause. 

One of the most poignant editorials came from a senior who put the wartime 
years in perspective, musing, "Who would have dreamed, starting to college in 
the fall of 1942, that so much could happen in four short years?" 

The war was something to be puzzled over during newsreels at the Irvin, 
and to be replaced in its own mental cubbyhole immediately afterwards. 
House parties were not pleasant good times; they were breathless won- 
ders. (June 19, 1946) 
That senior also recalled "that fatal January night" when Hedding Hall burned, 
and the "V-5 Cadets walking gigs under extremely unfavorable climatic condi- 
tions on Saturday night" her sophomore year. "Somehow we felt a bit lost and 
lonely," she wrote, and "It wasn't just a matter of dates. . . . Now we are seniors, 
and the boys are back — different a little, perhaps — assured, independent." 

With the burden of war lifted, The Argus editorial pages quickly lightened. 
A September 17, 1947 issue complained that while "we're glad to be back . . . 
Bloomington is no 'Pearl of the Midwest' as far as entertainment goes. In fact, 
things are so slow around here I've been thinking of opening a dairy where bored 
couples may come to milk the heck out of a couple of cows to liven up an 
evening." Yet, the same page featured another editorial which urged, "Come on, 
Chillun — Le's Dance." For a measly $1.33, Wesleyan's 1281 students could buy 
a season ticket to the "three biggest all-school dances of the year," the first one 
featuring Freddie Nagel, "who will shuttle down from the [Chicago] Palmer 
House in time for Wesleyan's 1947 Homecoming." 

Noting that "Bob Ripley himself, some years ago, made public the fact that 
Franklin Avenue, Bloomington-Normal, is the only street in the world with a 
university at either end," editor Bob Holmes and his cohort Alice Stanbery 
lauded the joint meeting of the IWU and State Normal student councils, who 
gathered to develop a plan for more cooperation between the two universities. 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 103 

Signed, sealed and delivered: At Wesley an, students are never treated like just another 
number (date unknown). 

Suggestions included mutual use of libraries, academic integration, talent show 
exchanges and joint concert ventures (November 19, 1947). 

In general, however, editorials shrank, letters and persuasive/expressive 
columns dwindled, and the editorial double-truck went back to a single lorry. 
Editors in the post-war, pre-Kennedy years seldom criticized the administration, 
though the majority of letters to the editor often griped about Argus coverage or 
mistakes. Staffs responded in various ways. One letter-writer who voiced an 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 104 

oblique complaint about the way organizations ran the 1949 Homecoming saw 
his letter printed in The Argus; but below it, an editor's response picked his letter 
apart paragraph by paragraph, scolding, "Thanks for your letter, Mr. X, but in the 
future, if you have any gripe, or better still, a verbal orchid for someone, orga- 
nize your thoughts and come right to the point. Okay?" (October 26, 1949). 
Other letter-writers would prompt a similar dual-treatment, while a later editorial 
took the whole campus to task: 

The Argus has come under criticism from departmental and organiza- 
tional heads who feel that we do not give them complete news coverage. 
We do not have the facilities or the time to track down every item we 
hear rumors about, nor can we cover events that we do not even know 
are going to take place. Furthermore, we cannot give complete coverage 
to events when someone calls up the print shop and says, "I forgot to tell 
you about this, but ... I would like that in tomorrow's Argus. (January 
18, 1950) 
Like editors who would follow, they placed the burden on departmental and 
organizational heads. But not all letters were cranky. Some wrote to give stu- 
dents a fresh perspective. One former "faculty pinch hitter" wrote to say how 
shocked he was by the new rules for the Memorial Center published the previous 

Card playing, smoking and dancing! What is happening? I well recall 
the two weeks' suspension imposed in 1915 on 105 Wesleyan students 
for attending a "Wesleyan" dance. . . . The faculty now includes some 
broadminded thinkers whose influence is being felt and appreciated . . . 
Catholics and Jews are not any longer just tolerated on the campus, but 
they are now welcomed and are taking their places among the campus 
leaders. Truly Wesleyan is growing up. (November 12, 1947) 
The author was right. Even when McCarthyism swept the nation, Wesleyan 
students kept their heads. A three-part series of editorials on "Campus 
Commies" recapped investigations on colleges across the nation. Editors cau- 
tioned that while current reports identified communist elements primarily on 
larger campuses, "this fact must not be misinterpreted to mean that the problem 
of American subjection to communist infiltration is no closer to Wesleyan stu- 
dents than the nearest Big Nine campus" (January 21, 1948). To their credit, 
editors also recognized that "the problem is complicated" because Communism 
advocates the elimination of racial prejudice and the institution of an "ultimate 
international peace and cooperation," ideas which appeal to right-thinking 
Americans. "The essence of the problem is to distinguish between progressive 
and anti-American activity," they concluded. No witch-hunts took place on the 
Wesleyan campus. In fact, when the campus was polled later that year, students 
were overwhelmingly against outlawing the U.S. Communist Party. 

In 1948, polls frequently appeared in the editorial pages on such topics as 
Sunday morning fellowship (students against), compulsory chapel (women for, 
men against), a get-tough policy for Russia (men for, women against), universal 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 105 

military training (men for, women against), faculty crackdown on cheating (stu- 
dents for) and the new-look longer hem lines (males against). 

Mostly, the editorial pages took on a lighter tone, with a column, "Under the 
Arch," by "Brown," offering such tidbits of wisdom as "The weaker sex is the 
stronger sex because of the weakness of the stronger sex for the weaker sex. 
Amen" (April 26, 1950). With the exception of a brief-but-playful exchange of 
letters on the battle of the sexes from authors who signed off as Clark Kent, Lois 
Lane and Wonder Woman, the editorial pages throughout the remainder of 1950s 
were fairly tame and institutionalized. A housemotherly Argus praised Student 
Senate, scolded Senate, called for school spirit, denounced cheating and advised 
students to slow down when driving through campus. A Student Senate 
"President's Corner" occassionally appeared, as did a regular "Faculty Corner," 
where one professor bluntly told students, "That I am not a popular teacher does 
not bother me. The student goes to college for learning his subject, not for ador- 
ing the teacher" (February 10, 1954). Physics professor Harold P. Stephenson's 
column was more flattering: 

Since I first came to Wesleyan, the similarity between it and my own 
school, Duke University, has impressed me as a very striking one. If the 
number of students and faculty here at Wesleyan were multiplied by a 
factor of about eight and a few Gothic buildings were added to the cam- 
pus, a reasonable facsimile of Duke would be obtained. . . . The best stu- 
dents and faculty at Wesleyan would feel very much at home with the 
very best students and faculty at Duke. (March 3, 1954). 
The most unsettling problem that seemed to occur at Wesleyland was the appar- 
ently irregular hours of Buck Library, which prompted a December 5, 1956 edi- 
torial calling for Buck to remain open to its advertised 9:30 p.m. closing time. 
Like most editorials of the decade, this one generated no official response. 

Most of the time, editors reached for editorial topics, as indicated by the 
1958 three-part series on the "Beat Generation" — the poetry-loving counter cul- 
ture of the late 1950s. The October 10, 1958 Argus reprinted an editorial from 
the Notre Dame Scholastic that beat up on the Beats: "Perhaps it is best that the 
'Beat Generation' retreat to the hideaways and moan to themselves about the ill 
way they have been treated. Their lack of emotional and mental stability certain- 
ly could never allow them to be responsible leaders." Guest editorials in the fol- 
lowing weeks agreed with the Scholastic, with one wryly observing, "So ours is 
a 'Beat Generation,' is it? This is most unfortunate. But don't worry your heads 
about it. After all, there will be another, more fashionable term for the Age of 
Our Children." 

White Paper. Red Ink 

In October 1963, the Board of Trustees released what became known as the 

"White Paper," which outlined what it meant for the university to be affiliated 

with the Methodist Church. Drafted and delivered by IWU President Lloyd 

Bertholf, the Paper noted that while the Church "in no way" exerts any "control 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 106 

or direction over the policies, curriculum, program, or personnel of the 
University," in such matters as "public relations and finances" the Methodist 
Church has been "most valuable." In grappling with what it meant to be church- 
related, Bertholf and the Board concluded that it implied "an obligation to keep 
humbly searching for the truth." But because they also saw the university as a 
"comradeship of faith," they reasoned, 

Therefore, as a Christian university, we are seeking to have a faculty that 
shares essentially the kind of faith . . . that is expressed in the Bible, par- 
ticularly the New Testament. The questions a prospective member of 
Illinois Wesley an faculty or administrative staff needs to ask ... are: 
"Can I warmly support such an attitude and do I desire to contribute to 
the enhancement of such an atmosphere?" We assume that nearly every- 
one who answers the above questions in the affirmative will be an active 
member of some church. To any who are not, we feel we have the right 
to ask, "Why not?" 
While the Board did not specify if they would reject an applicant because of 
his or her beliefs, the White Paper antagonized both faculty and students. For 
weeks, letters filled the editorial pages just as the campus community filled the 
room when the university's new hiring policy was aired — a meeting where 
"Only one voice in the audience was raised favoring the trustees' position, Dr. 
William Bennett, and he was jeered" (December 6, 1963). 

One sarcastic letter came from a fictional Japanese applicant, a "Graduate of 
Tokyo High . . . member in good standing of Shinto Temple. . . . But will teach 
Judeo-Christian Chemistry," while a carefully reasoned letter from "S.S." (The 
Argus business manager) expressed concern that the new restrictions could cost 
Wesleyan some talented faculty who would teach elsewhere. Scott Scrimshire 
('64) also added a subjective note: "Personally, I question the true sincerity of 
any member of the Board of Trustees that cancels $176 worth of future advertis- 
ing in the school paper the day after the panel discussion" (November 22, 1963). 
A regular columnist writing as "Charles Martel" marvelled that the White 
Paper turned the campus so quickly on its head and concluded that "the Trustees 
seem more interested in money than in any sort of academic ideal." By contrast, 
the staff editorial reasoned that the newly clarified Methodist affiliation might 
make IWU different enough from other private schools so that more donations 
would follow, sparing students further tuition increases. 

Faculty were understandably the most agitated. Professor S. Matthew 
Prastein charged the university with adopting a "new and narrow definition of 
education . . . bound to result in the elimination of meaningful contact between 
the student and that vast segment of the world that differs from him." Prastein 
argued that when he came to Illinois Wesleyan "it was devoted, not to Christian 
Education, but to education of Christians" (December 6, 1963). Another profes- 
sor, Pedro Juan Labarthe, vowed that he would not use his classroom "to con- 
vince Shinto students or Unitarian students or Jewish students or Atheist stu- 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 107 

dents" to believe in his God, nor if he were an Atheist would he use the class- 
room to "destroy the faith" of Christian students. "It is criminal to destroy any 
faith," he wrote (December 6). 

Two years after the heated debate, Bertholf and the Board released a revised 
statement in the November 12, 1965 Argus with the objectionable portions toned 
down. Instead of it being essential for "a teacher" to teach from the Judeo- 
Christian perspective, the document was changed to read "most teachers"; 
instead of stimulating theological conversation "within the framework of the 
Judeo-Christian faith," the university now wished to encourage "a variety of the- 
ological points of view." And "Most [faculty] will belong to Protestant church- 
es, but membership in a non-Protestant church will not disqualify a candidate." 
As Bertolf wrote in his memoirs, "If I had realized how difficult it would be to 
write a religious statement that would be widely understood in the way intended, 
I never would have attempted it." The November 12 Argus supported the second 
White Paper, noting that "the revised edition has complied with requests to main- 
tain flexibility as a Methodist-related university." 

Student Unrest: From Food Fights to Civil Rig hts 
When Pat Geise, a junior nursing major, was killed by a hit and run driver, 
the March 16, 1962 editorial demanded answers: "Who was responsible? Was it 
the driver of the car who was in no condition to drive responsibly? Was it the 
bartender in whose establishment the driver became in this condition? Was it 
inadequate police enforcement . . ?" 

But it was the 1960s, and students everywhere were beginning to question 
everything — especially authority. Early signs of student unrest and protest were 
evident as students returned to campus in the fall of 1963. A September 20 edi- 
torial complained about the lack of respect shown at the first all-school convoca- 

There were examples of irreverent sit-down strikes during the singing of 
the Alma Wesleyana; there were scattered snickers during the serious 
parts of the two addresses; sleeping and snoring in the balconies; and 
even a few hot hands were seen in hidden card games. 
But judging from the editorials and from the number of exhortations by fac- 
ulty and students to awaken from their slumber, Wesleyan students were far less 
rebellious than students elsewhere. If anything, Argus staffers during the early 
1960s seemed more conservative than others on campus. In response to maga- 
zine articles which called American college students complacent, compared to 
students in other countries, editors wrote, 

It is true that students in America's universities have long been more 
interested in unspectacular, gradual change than radical reform. . . . 
America's greatness has stemmed from the fact that its revolution was 
not handled by a group of hot-headed, idealistic college students, but . . . 
by a group of mature and experienced statesmen .... The campus is a 
place to learn about revolutions and the problems that cause them. It is 
not a place to start them. (January 21, 1963) 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 108 

Nonetheless, one "Soapbox" column complained about taxation, another 
about Barry Goldwater, a review-column proclaimed "Anti-Intellectualism Hits 
Campus," and a full-page staff editorial printed a tiny 14-point reminder on an 
all-white page: "Don't Complain Next Year Unless You Vote in the Primaries 

If nothing else, the 1960s brought life to the editorial page. A single Argus 
often contained more substance than a year of editorials from other eras. The 
October 4, 1963 issue featured a column in which Charles Martel was spoiling 
for a fight ("At last we have a controversy — the campus is tightening its mone- 
tary belt because some overambitious chairman spent our money in advance"), a 
reprint on the "ethical rebel," a column arguing for non-required class attendance 
for upperclassmen and a lengthy and complicated staff editorial favoring the 
Kerr-Mills [medical assistance] Bill. 

Other editorials called for "No Wheat For Russia" and suggested caution 
before abandoning the "moon race" — the latter prefaced by a disclaimer that 
"any parallels or similarities" to an Art Buchwald syndicated column "are not 
intentional" (November 8, 1963). On this suddenly issue-minded and well-read 
campus, editors noted with surprise that an all-school Campus Chest 
Hootenanny sponsored by Student Senate drew 500 students, and "by the end of 
the program every student was really spirited, which is a word seldom expressed 
on the Wesleyan campus" (November 15, 1963). 

When President Kennedy was assassinated, The Argus paid tribute, like other 
college newspapers, in a December 6 editorial, observing that "this country 
which Mr. Kennedy had had so much confidence in and had given his all, his 
America — our America — was still moving forward." But in the next issue, quite 
unlike other college papers, editors complained that the Kennedy tributes had 
gotten out of hand: 

The first thing that the Johnson Administration did was to change the 

name of Cape Canaveral to Cape Kennedy. . . . Instead of the Peace 

Corps we have the Kennedy Corps. Instead of the Northwest 

Expressway we have the John Kennedy Expressway [in Chicago]. 

Instead of Idlewild Field in New York City we have Kennedy Field. 

Instead of Bloomington, Illinois we may have Kennedy, Illinois. . . . 

Let's come to our senses and stop ranking John F. Kennedy alongside 

George Washington and Abraham Lincoln! (December 13, 1963) 

The editorial argued that a "broad-minded view over the past three years will 

reveal that Kennedy's widespread proposals for this country never got off the 

ground," and that he was undeserving of the extended honors. 

Even more surprising than the radical rhetoric, editors chose to print a facul- 
ty member's poetic tribute to Kennedy on the same page. But a look at decade 
after decade of Argus indicates that the 1960s were pivotal in that editors began 
packing the opinion pages with strong commentaries — even if they ran counter 
to the staff's beliefs. 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 109 

Neither protests nor parties could get too out of hand, since Wesleyan had its 
own version of anti-assembly laws. According to a February 5, 1965 editorial, 
the university's "code book" [student handbook] stated that "six or more mem- 
bers of a group, gathered together at any time, constitutes an official party of that 
group. If the party is not scheduled and the administration finds out about it then 
the group is in trouble." The editorial noted that the regulation was put into 
effect in order to "protect organizations from being punished for the actions of 
just two or three individuals, and the rule has never been enforced." Though edi- 
tors chided the Social and Welfare Commission for having nothing better to do 
than dispute a dormant rule, they urged adoption of the proposed change to "a 
new fifteen-man rule," just to be on the safe side. However, it never became an 
issue and no record of a change — or enforcement — appears in university records. 

In 1965 the administration tried to replace exam week again, thereby allevi- 
ating the "hysteria of last minute cramming, staying up all night, and all other 
horrendous schemes that students dream up." Once again, the one-hour, last- 
week-of-the-semester exams were none too popular. One student complained in 
a January 7, 1966 letter that he found himself facing "new material up until the 
very last day before the final exam. Some students even had four and five tests 
on any given day." 

Along with the rest of the nation, Wesleyan students in the 1960s displayed a 
not-too-quiet dissatisfaction with the university they attended. Even The Argus 
complained that "students will either walk up to the editor and begin a tirade, or 
else they will walk around campus muttering curses beneath their breath" 
(February 15, 1963). The tone of the average student letters was apparent from 
the headlines: "Student Letters Express Discontent," or "Column Creates 

In the February 15 issue, guest columnist Jim Ruoti ('63) got on "The 
Soapbox" to complain, "I am one of the unfortunate students at IWU who had to 
pay the full one-thousand dollars tuition." But that was only his lead-in. Ruoti's 
real beef was that he claimed the Public Relations Department had been telling 
students that, unlike larger schools, they would never have a graduate student for 
an instructor. "True," Ruoti conceded, "but . . . you might have an undergradu- 
ate student teaching you instead!" Ruoti accused the university of short-chang- 
ing part-time faculty and concluded, "until Wesleyan decides [to pay adjunct fac- 
ulty at least $600 per course] we students will remain in the deep abyss of igno- 
rance." Apparently the university held no grudge — either that, or they wanted 
the persuasive Ruoti on their side — since they hired him as an admissions coun- 
selor immediately after he graduated. Ruoti has served as director of admissions 
since 1970 and received dean status in 1991. 

Food was the focus in fall 1966, when The Argus received its longest letter — 
if 113 student signatures count. The students were fed up with "the sameness of 
food, week after week, year after year," and wondered, "Do french fries always 
have to be served with meat loaf?" (October 14). Even the editors got into the 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 110 

act: "First there was chop suey and rice; then there was chop suey and canned 
chow mein noodles; and then, ah then, there was chop suey and Cap'n Crunch" 
which greeted the last in the Commons meal line. 

Three weeks later, an editorial reported that the Student Union Commission 
food committee brought the matter to the President's Cabinet. But student com- 
plaints also aired over WIOK's "Hot Line," according to The Argus, and some 
students distributed flyers containing "vicious personal attacks" the day of the 
Board of Trustees meeting. Editors chided those who were "jamming the local 
airwaves" or employing "witchburning techniques," but praised students who 
went through proper channels to make a difference. On the day the newspaper 
hit the stands, a consultant from the Associated Colleges of Illinois was on cam- 
pus to "examine and freely alter menus, service procedures and personnel orga- 
nization." And on January 10, 1969, The Argus reported that the university had 
contracted with Saga Food Service to provide meals for the Commons and Dug 
Out areas. The new food service stressed "student satisfaction" and would make 
a manager accessible to students at mealtimes for comments and criticism. 

Argus staffs soon felt an obligation to take the forefront in such reforms, 
however major or minor. Writers began to feel it was their right and obligation 
to report what went on behind the doors of Holmes Hall. But asking questions 
was one thing; getting answers was quite another. A November 17, 1967 editori- 
al complained that while IWU had been progressive in its inclusion of students 
on standing faculty committees, "now very few bodies, certainly not the major 
ones, include students." In addition, "students were completely excluded from 
discussions leading to the proposal of curriculum change," and the Argus editor 
was "denied permission even to listen to and report faculty deliberations." The 
November 15, 1968 editorial described the responses reporters typically enoun- 
tered in the "offices of the four deans": 

"I don't know anything . . . yes, I am a member of cabinet . . . but I don't 
know when it meets . . ." 
"You'd better get all this from the president 

"Well you can attend for the background information, but we don't want 
anyone to know about it yet. If they did, it might not go through 
The editors charged that one dean withheld information on a proposed student 
conduct program, while another deflected inquiries over deferred rush by 
allegedly saying, "You don't have to tell anyone, but frankly, I think the Argus is 
getting a little too nosey." In addition, 

A different reporter inquired of the same dean each week last spring, 
"How is the formation of the new [all black] fraternity developing?" 
The answer each week was, "It isn't. . . . There won't be one." But we 
returned to campus this fall to find a brand new local fraternity on the 
records. (November 15, 1968) 
The editors admitted, "Yes newspapers make trouble. Yet, the university public 
does have the right to know. We can't force the deans to reveal campus news. 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 111 

But, let's hope they will fulfill their roles as communicators and truly inform and 
involve students and other sectors of Wesleyan's 'family.'" 

The "Wesleyan family" concept was apparently one of the university's 
sacred cows, having evolved over a great many decades. When a first-year pro- 
fessor of humanities attacked the notion in an "Echo Chamber" column, the 
reverberations went on and on. John J. Mood's column followed on the heels of 
another Echo Chamber, where a female student had detailed three problems (and 
four solutions) to what she called overly parental dorm rules for women. How 
parental was Wesleyan? As late as 1956, all student handbooks stated that stu- 
dents who wanted to marry had to get the blessings of not just parents, but the 
university president as well (December 13, 1968). In his column, Mood charged 

there are implications in the family metaphor which are all too applica- 
ble. For one thing, the picture of students as children and faculty and 
administration as parents is demeaning to both groups. For another, 
there is the correctly implied incestuousness of most American universi- 
ties. (April 14, 1967) 
He called for a plan that sounded drastic even to him: that students and faculty 
together should make all policies, and that administration should merely admin- 
ister the policies. Mood did not return to Wesleyan the following year. 

But in loco parentis continued to be a hot topic, especially after neighboring 
ISU became the first university in the nation to completely do away with 
women's hours. The January 19, 1968 Argus criticized the "hastily constructed 
questionnaire which was sent home to parents of junior and senior women" to 
find whether they favored changing the university's "current program of protec- 
tive parenthood." Not surprisingly, a March 1 article featured this banner head- 
line: "Parents condemn hours abolition." 

On March 5, 1993, Brian Hiatt ('95) put the current policy in perspective. 
He told students that the issue was hottest in 1969, when "about 1000 students 
from Wesleyan and Illinois State" marched and "held panty raids" in protest. 
Darcy Greder, head of the Office of Residential Programs, reminded students 
that "Visitation hours [11 a.m.- 12 p.m. on weekdays, and until 1 a.m. on week- 
ends] are not in place for moral protection. It's there to ensure the privacy and 
security of every student living in a residence hall at Wesleyan." 

Editorials, letters and columns continued to be the lifeblood of The Argus 
during the 1960s and early 1970s, especially as students began to discover that 
'"Student Power' is a reality" (March 8, 1968). Most vital was "The Echo 
Chamber," offering insights and essays by faculty and students on the concept of 
a liberal arts college, Vietnam, ecology, student rights and civil rights. In one of 
the columns, Professor Paul Bushnell's "White academy neglects blacks," the 
introduction explained how black students attended a conference at Alma 
College in 1967 and found that "social and academic conditions at IWU are 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 112 

much better than at other colleges" (September 27, 1968). But the introduction 
also noted that IWU's last black professor left in 1963, and Bushnell wrote, 
"Despite certain marks of acceptance in limited areas of life on Wesley an' s cam- 
pus, the black student has not been generally aware of any real commitment on 
the part of the institution, from the Trustees down, to open its white doors to the 
black world." 

Campus Politics: A Decade of Re-evaluation 

The first editorial of fall 1970 already began to assess the impact of "the 
social upheaval of the sixties." Something had changed. For one thing, the staff 
gave that first editorial to university President Robert S. Eckley. In an editorial 
of their own, instead of railing about closed campus buildings as students did the 
previous decade, editors complained that "several campus buildings were found 
to be open after closing hours" and pointed an accusing finger at security. In a 
longer editorial, editor Tom Wetzel called for cooperation and communication 
between students and the administration, arguing that "students of college age 
can conduct themselves in a manner in keeping with the goals of a university," 
and "when free communication is impeded or blocked, chastisement of the 
offenders will come from all members of the university, including students" 
(August 25, 1970). 

The university proclaimed 1970 "the Year of Re-evaluation," which set the 
tone for a decade of dialogue. Argus editorials backed or made suggestions for 
newly revamped faculty committees and called for the outdated student hand- 
book to be revised. When the university disbanded the speech department in 
1973, editors agreed with Eckley that the department may not have been strong 
enough to offer a major, but offered a compromise: "The home economics major 
was dissolved but courses are still offered in this area. Why can't the speech 
department be treated in the same manner?" The university took their advice, 
and hired a single person to teach communication courses. 

During the decade, The Echo Chamber continued, with faculty and student 
columns on the American dream and blacks, self-involvement and a broader con- 
cept of athletics. A November 6 editorial complained about student apathy 
except for "one notable exception. Debates in Student Senate have aroused 
some support, and still more discussion [over autonomy, student self-govern- 
ment] is pending." 

During the 1970s, Student Senate became the focus of campus politics and 
concerns — and dominated Argus editorial pages. The March 23, 1970 issue 
reprinted the entire Student Senate constitution, since "Senate law [dictated] that 
all proposed constitutional changes be published in the ARGUS before they can 
be voted on." 

Practically every issue in the 1970s contained a column, letter, or editorial 
about the campus solons. In "Senate motions necessitate responsibility of fol- 
low-ups" (November 20, 1970), editors not only supported Senate motions to 
investigate campus job recruiting "and anaylyze the armed service recruiting in 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 113 

particular," but called for action. On March 19, 1971, editors chastized Senate 
president George Vinyard ('71) for singlehandedly trying "to save the Phoenix 
by refusing to fight anybody, saying yes to Holmes Hall, and then announcing 
his candidacy for manager." Vinyard responded in the next issue by thanking 
The Argus for its "ever-widening credibility gap." Vinyard wasn't the only tar- 
get. Senators and officers throughout the decade were fair game, as one editorial 
made clear: "The sounds that emerged from the Davidson Room of this past 
week's student senate meeting resembled more the grunts and groans of a zoo 
than that of a thinking intelligent group of people" (March 11, 1977) 
One letter-writer complained, 

What is the purpose of the senseless mud slinging that goes on every 
week in your Senate-funded tabloid? Is this supposed to be a student 
newspaper, or a scaled-down version of the National Enquirer? ... Is 
this common journalistic practice or is it more common to receive a 
wider spectrum of views on current events? (November 30, 1979) 
Despite other letters complaining of excessive Senate coverage, The Argus 
continued to devote much of its space to student government. Editorials ques- 
tioned Senate activity fee increases and budgets, criticized Senate presidents, 
sought to break from the Senate Media Commission and reluctantly endorsed 
candidates for Student Senate elections each spring with headlines like "None 
excel in presidential race" (February 15, 1974). 

One of the more interesting exchanges between The Argus and Senate 
occurred when Editor Maria Donato criticized Senate's matching-payment plan 
for student gynecological exams. According to the chairperson from the Senate 
Women's Affairs Committee, Senate allocated $1000 in 1976-77 "to cover up to 
half of the twenty dollar fee charged for a complete gynecological examination 
at Planned Parenthood," including "a three month supply of contraceptives" 
(March 11, 1977). Donato complained that publicity was slight and funding was 
insufficient to cover all women who wanted to take advantage of the program. 
She also questioned whether Senate should fund personal medical bills and con- 
traception. Patricia Robinson ('77), WAC chair, explained in her rebuttal that "in 
our society, it is the woman's responsibility to obtain proper birth control. Many 
of us can not afford the fees . . . and it is a relief to have this service provided" 
(March 11). 

Donato fired the last salvo. The March 18 editorial claimed that while the 
money had been in place (and had been used by IWU women) since fall, "only 
$40 was left in the fund" when Robinson sent a letter to the 841 women on cam- 
pus urging them to take advantage of the service. 

Argus staffs at times waxed nostalgic for 1960s-style confrontations — even if 
none existed. Editors referred to a "bookstore controversy" which amounted to 
little more than the usual student complaints, and when mechanical problems 
occurred with dorm doors, they termed it the '"Dolan Lock' scandal" (September 
15, 1972). The 1974 staff tried to make an issue out of parking, calling it "one of 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 114 

the most pressing problems confronting the IWU student" (February 15, 1974) — 
though a letter-writer fired back, "In the great tradition of blissful ignorance, so 
common to other Argi I have known, you propose this absurdity" (February 22, 

The 1970s were made for the sardonic "Gadfly." A column "written anony- 
mously by a member of the Wesleyan student body," the Gadfly derived its name 
from ancient Greek history. "Socrates was referred to as the 'gadfly of Athens' 
because of his stinging attacks directed toward the Athenian government" 
(October 25, 1975). Wesleyan 's Gadfly was an equal-opportunity attacker. Even 
buildings weren't safe. In the October 25 editorial, the Gadfly released "new 
catalog information" and described, for would-be or still-am students, the land- 
marks of IWU. Of Holmes Hall administration building, for example, the 
Gadfly wrote, 

This magnificent structure, with the striking lines of its petite State 
Farm architecture, is the work of that famous architect responsible for 
so many of Wesleyan's fine buildings, Bidder Lowest. It is here that you 
will come when called before the throne of one of the officers of the 
Administration. It is here that you will find the "in" faculty, as well as 
those instructors who, despite their excellence, have to date survived the 
current administration — although most of these will soon be collecting 
their gold watches. 
Another Gadfly column offered similar parodic descriptions of faculty stalwarts, 
including "Dr. Robert Fray" [Bray], who "is infamous for his ability to cram two 
hours worth of questions into fifty minutes of exam time," and "Dr. Donald 
'Dancing Donny' Cram [Strand], "an insurance expert [who] has yet to devise an 
adequate form of insurance against his own classroom jokes" (October 31, 
1975). The Gadfly also attacked faculty committees that year, and when 
"Wesleyland Vocational High" developed basketball fever with the Titans head- 
ed for the national tournament at Kansas City, the Gadfly flew in with his stinger 
to burst the bubble. He wrote that "all anyone is talking about is K.C. (although 
that could be the initials of a cheap one on front street)," adding, 

I realize of course that basketball is a sport of highly coordinated move- 
ment and agility, but so is getting out of a backseat of a Toyota. One 
must have the precision and timing of a ballerina, or at least the legs. It 
is a fast moving, thinking man's sport of reaction and action, very much 
like a cute girl trying to survive the night at a single's bar. (March 11, 
Another column that began in the 1970s turned into a custom. Since 1979, 
Argus staffs have used their last issue before the holiday season to fill campus 
stockings with candy canes or coal. Throughout the year they made a list of who 
had been naughty or nice, with the first candy canes going to the drama depart- 
ment ("for Death of a Salesman"), to the Student Senate ("for buying the Argus 
new electric typewriters") and to Pope John-Paul II ("for promoting peace and 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 115 

good will throughout the world"). Editors dropped coal in the socks of Governor 
Jim Thompson ("for raising the drinking age"), to the Ayatollah ("for spoiling 
the holiday for many Americans"), to the faculty ("for making what used to be 
considered 'dead week' into what has now become known as 'All-University 
Hell Week'") and to Student Senate ("for seeing fit to keep with tradition and 
lose money on a Homecoming Concert") (December 14, 1979). 

But the people who should have gotten something in their stockings were the 
unsung Argus photographers. Photos have not always been an Argus forte, and 
while Phil Denby's resignation appeared in an April Fool's issue, every last 
laugh had a kernel of truth: 

Your photo editor has resigned. Yes, readers, this means no more foggy, 
under contrast, indistinguishable photos will be published by yours truly. 
Anyone who has even the slightest knowledge of photo technique, wants 
to waste a lot of time for little or no reward, and doesn't mind being 

referred to as "that hole with the camera," apply in person to the 

Argus editor (March 29, 1974) 

The 1980s (plus four) 
As in the 1970s, early editorials were given to the president, who welcomed 
students back to campus in fall 1982-83. But as in the 1970s, the president 
quickly disappeared from The Argus pages — that is, until President Robert S. 
Eckley retired in 1986. In the March 21 issue, editors praised Robert and Nell 
Eckley for having a "positive influence on the campus," noting that Mrs. Eckley 
"put much time and energy 
into working for the beau- 
tification of the campus" 
and that Dr. Eckley has 
"recognized the role of the 
campus press, and has not 
interfered in its production." 
After a decade of 
Student Senate concerns, 
The Argus opened its eyes 
to national issues. 
Television made students 
witnesses to an assassina- 
tion attempt, the first con- 
trolled spacecraft landing, 
the terrorist bombing of 
U.S. Marines in Beirut, 
nuclear disarmament talks, 
Ethiopian famine, AIDS 
paranoia, abortion demon- 
strations, the U.S. attack 

Slow down, John, I can't keep up with you! 

Free Spirits: While The Argus poked fun of university 
dean John Clark (left) and President Robert Eckley in 
this 1974 streaking cartoon, editors praised Eckley for 
not interfering with production of the newspaper. 
The artist was Gary Lundberg (75). 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 116 

on Libya and the Iran-Contra Affair — with all of those events appearing on The 
Argus ' opinion pages. 

At times, the media bombardment seemed too much. When John W. 
Hinkley, Jr. tried to assassinate President Ronald Reagan, an Argus editorial 
accused the media of taking Hinkley "out of the common realm of humanity" 
and building "an image larger than life" (April 3, 1981). Later that decade, 
columnist John Snyder also expressed concern with the "control the media has 
over what we think, how we think, and when we think" (September 29, 1989). 
Snyder complained about the public outcry which followed reports that Supreme 
Court Justice nominee Douglas Ginsberg "tried marijuana in college, at a time 
when nearly EVERYBODY tried marijuana." Had the media pursued Ted 
Kennedy after the Chappaquidick incident with equal vehemence, Snyder 
argued, his career would have ended as abruptly as Ginsberg's. 

As students focused their energies on off-campus issues, campus traditions 
suddenly became endangered species. In 1988, an Argus editorial reported that 
Homecoming was threatened by a lack of interest and attendance (October 14). 
Later, the April 21, 1989 Argus told how "the yearbook is dying, and if students 
are apathetic ... it may disappear with its 86 years of tradition." A Student 
Senate survey decided the yearbook's fate. While the vote gave the Wesley ana a 
stay of execution, letters from the media commissioner and Wesley ana editor 
made it clear that students didn't care enough to work on the staff that year. 

But campus issues still appeared in The Argus. When, after a succession of 
delays, the River City Construction Company missed their "ultimatum" to have 
Fort Natatorium pool fully operational by January 1, 1988, editors complained. 
Surprisingly, and for perhaps the first time in the newspaper's history, everyone 
on campus agreed. First it was the wrong length that delayed construction of the 
Olympic-size pool, and then, "Surprise! The pool leaks," editors griped on 
January 15. "What is wrong? Why don't we get some of Wesleyan's pre-engi- 
neering majors out there to finish the job?" 

The Gadfly turned into a barfly in the 1980s, preoccupied with finding 
places to drink (September 18, 1981) and offering "booze violation tips" to the 
campus (November 5, 1982). Wesleyan's six-year "wet" experiment ended 
when the state of Illinois raised the drinking age to 21 in 1980. Four years later, 
editors conceded that the university's new ban on alcohol bottles and cans — even 
as dorm decorations — made enforcement of the no-drinking rule easier. But they 
also proposed an age 21-and-over hall where "responsible students" could drink 
"without having to worry about university infractions" (September 21, 1984). 
No such hall was ever designated. 

That left students to debate where it was easier to break the alcohol policy — 
in the residence halls or Greek houses. After the 1982 Wesley ana included pho- 
tos of two fraternities posing with alcoholic beverage bottles, cans and kegs, a 
few independent students wrote The Argus to complain: "You would think the 
university would do something about the violation. Have they? Are they? Will 
they?" (October 1, 1982). The following week, two Greeks retorted, "We can 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 117 

list many dorm violations which the RA's chose to ignore, and wisely so. . . . 
Alcohol violations can be very complicated situations. So, relax" (October 8). 
Despite other letters urging the university to revise its alcohol regulations, the 
policy remained unchanged as of 1994, largely because the majority of IWU stu- 
dents are under the legal drinking age. 

When short-term travel couses were called back before the end of the semes- 
ter because of terrorist threats to travelling Americans, a February 15, 1991 edi- 
torial called for a partial refund to students. No refunds were given, since the 
action taken was obviously in the students' best interest. 

Sometimes, however, the opinion pages helped shape campus policies. In 
one case, Steve Dunlap ('82), a student representative on Curriculum Council, 
wrote a letter urging the student body to respond to a survey prepared by profes- 
sor John Wenum. The committee needed to gauge student feelings on a pro- 
posed program which would enable them to "minor" in subjects. The students 
responded, and a minor program was adopted and in place for the 1983-84 
school year. 

In another case, The Argus criticized Student Senate's "gag rule" giving non- 
senators the right to speak only if called upon by senators. Editors said this 
made for "a near-constant flow of non-senators dashing to their senators to rec- 
ognize them," which resembled "the Keystone Kops on speed" (October 8, 
1982). On October 19, Senate repealed the gag rule, and while a motion to 
revive it came in spring 1983, that motion failed (November 16). 

Students in the 1980s often used the editorial pages not to criticize, but to 
express their needs or effect change. After letters and columns pointed to the 
need for a minority counselor, the university launched a four-year Minority 
Opportunities Program in 1987, and provided a part-time academic counselor the 
following year. By the 1990-91 school year, Illinois Wesley an had a full-time 
Director of Minority Services. 

In 1987, after a Wesleyan freshman was sexually assaulted at 4 a.m. while 
walking near the Fort Natatorium construction site, The Argus reminded students 
of the obvious: in a crime-ridden world, even idyllic Illinois Wesleyan wasn't 
completely safe. One week later, editor J. Arlen Bowyer ('90) advised the uni- 
versity to protect its students by increasing the security force from midnight to 7 
a.m. and by making escorts "a mandatory rather than a voluntary policy" 
(October 30, 1987). 

The April 22, 1988 Argus reported that when students were away on spring 
break, a campus security guard was attacked while trying to stop a Presser Hall 
break-in. The officer was hit on the head from behind by a second intruder and 
dumped in the bushes. Again, editors argued for an end to single-officer patrols 
after midnight: "If this lone incident is not enough of an incentive to change the 
security schedule, let the administration turn the clock back to the last time the 
schedule was criticized." In 1990, campus security began using double-patrols 
between the hours of 8 p.m. and 4 a.m., and by 1994 they employed double- 
patrols 16 hours each day. 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 118 

Campus security became a major concern during the 1980s and early 1990s, 
both at Illinois State University and at IWU (see Chapter 3). Student Senate's 
About Women and Role Expectations (AWARE) Committee promoted a 
"WhistleSTOP" program, and the Argus encouraged all women to purchase a 
whistle on breakaway chain to blow in case of attack. "At Wesleyan, like most 
campuses, screaming is commonplace," The Argus argued, and rape deterrence 
was serious enough that students wouldn't blow the whistles in jest, as oppo- 
nents of the program had claimed (September 23, 1988). 

Later letters and editorials like "Grow up! And save yourself (November 
13, 1992) urged students to take precautions and again reminded females that 
campus security would provide an escort if they needed to walk alone after dark. 
When another Wesleyan student was assaulted a mile off-campus one year later, 
security responded by taping warnings on all campus buildings before students 
woke for their first classes (March 12, 1993). 

The threat of sexual assault wasn't limited to strangers, however. As date 
rape became a national concern, columnist Bob Hessling ('91) reminded the 
campus that Illinois Wesleyan wasn't immune from such problems. In "Time for 
Wesleyan to come clean on its dirty little secret" (September 28, 1990) — a col- 
umn that won first place in Illinois College Press Association competition — he 
described how The Argus had received a graphic letter from a woman who had 
been date-raped. "When I first read this, I felt like something had been ripped 
out of me," Hessling wrote. He reported that in fall 1989 at the University of 
Illinois, 16.4 percent of campus females had been raped, "mostly by men they 
knew" — a figure which, applied to Illinois Wesleyan, was "roughly the popula- 
tion of Ferguson Hall." In the first of many editorials to call for a change in the 
way males treat women, Hessling appealed to the men of IWU to educate each 

Other editorials and columns hailed anti-smoking legislation, promoted the 
campus Rock Aid for Bangladesh program, called for an end to U.S. aid to the 
U.S.S.R., supported stricter International Whaling Commission regulations, 
backed the Brady [gun control] Bill and asked students to maintain an Earth Day 
mentality year-round by recycling and avoiding products that were detrimental to 
the environment. As early as 1982, The Argus was making "an attempt to elimi- 
nate sexist language in IWU's newspaper" by alternating the use of "he" or "she" 
throughout individual articles (October 29). And when Los Angeles Lakers bas- 
ketball star Magic Johnson announced he had AIDS, an Argus editorial took 
exception with the way the media treated him as a hero: 

Johnson did not receive the virus through a blood transfusion as did 
Ryan White, who captured the heart of America and helped people over- 
come their ignorance and fear of AIDS. Nor did he acquire the virus 
from his dentist, as did Kimberly Burgalis [sic], who fought for disclo- 
sure laws which would force medical professionls to tell their patients if 
they have been exposed to the HIV virus. . . . Johnson had unprotected 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 119 

sex. Many times, he told reporters. . . . While it is sad that Johnson's 
career ended the way it did . . . society must stop idolizing Johnson as a 
tragic victim. Instead, he should be seen for what he is, a fantastically 
gifted athlete who succumbed to the lustful temptations that accompany 
his sport. (January 17, 1992) 
Certain topics remained "hot," with the campus divided on gay and lesbian 
rights, pro-life versus pro-choice attitudes on abortion, Ross Perot and the eco- 
nomic plans of Presidents Bush and Clinton. Closer to home, students tried to 
persuade faculty to retain January short term — an unsuccessful campaign, since 
faculty voted in December 1993 to replace January term with an optional May 
term as part of the 7-to-6 course load reduction plan. 

During the 1989-90 school year, the students' campaign to get condoms dis- 
tributed on campus took up so much space in The Argus that one parent wrote, 

A friend and I were joking about the high level of concern on your cam- 
pus over whether or not Illinois Wesleyan would provide condoms. . . . 
You students are so intense in your quest for recognition as adults, yet 
you expect the university to supply you with the equipment with which 
to be .... If you have bad breath, you buy mouthwash, if you smell bad, 
you purchase deodorant, if you're going to fool around, you'd better be 
prepared. But that's your responsibility, not the school's. (April 13, 
Students were neither embarrassed nor daunted, and the Great Condom 
Debate that began in November, 1989 alternately raged and sputtered and flamed 
up again — for two more years. Columnist April Olt ('93) argued that it would 
"save not morals, but lives" (November 6, 1992), while a staff editorial referred 
to the university's "ignorance" and asked, "Why else won't the University pro- 
vide condoms for its students? Most likely, it's the fear that doing so will insinu- 
ate that the University is condoning sex" (December 4, 1992). Students wrote 
letters to inform the university that they weren't exactly virginal, and the topic 
was to be discussed by the Student Senate. But the Great Senate Condom 
Debate finally fizzled when dean of students Glenn Swichtenberg matter-of-fact- 
ly "expressed doubts that the distribution of condoms through the university 
could be condoned." He added, "The responsibility for pretection belongs with 
the student who chooses to be sexually active" (December 4). And that was 

On October 13, 1989, an almost-giddy editorial proclaimed, "Wesleyan 
Ranks #1" after U.S. News & World Report named Illinois Wesleyan University 
as the top regional college in the Midwest. "Not too shabby," editors remarked, 
though they also observed that Illinois Wesleyan's only low mark came in the 
category of "faculty," based in part on the percentage of Ph.D.s and on faculty 
salaries. "Let's celebrate and enjoy," editors wrote. "But after the celebration, 
let's concentrate on our shortcomings and try even harder." Faculty salaries 
became an administrative priority, and Illinois Wesleyan retained its position as 

Chapter 5 Editorially Speaking 120 

Tossing and turning: President Minor Myers, jr. loses sleep over the possibility of IWU los- 
ing its No. 1 ranking in U.S. News and World Report (1991). Jason Pankoke C93) was the 

the top regional college in the Midwest for five straight years. 

Students in the early years of Argus reporting were deeply concerned about 
the image Illinois Wesley an University had beyond the campus. Ironically, 100 
years later students were still concerned about images — including their own. A 
November 11, 1983 editorial took pains to report that a quiet peace gathering in 
front of the library "revealed a different side of the Wesleyan community than 
the stereotypical 'spoiled rich kid' label that we are usually tagged with." 

More than a few editorial writers and columnists tried to dispel "The 
Wesleyan myth ... Do only rich kids go to IWU?" In his column, R. Jonathan 
Moore wrote, "certainly this university has more than its share of well-heeled 
attendees, but I hardly think that we would all classify ourselves as 'rich.' . . . 
Among my friends are a farmer's son and the son of carpet cleaners — do you 
think these people are rich?" (September 21, 1990). Sometimes, statistics speak 
louder than words. President Minor Myers, jr. wrote in the university's Annual 
Report for 1993 that 84 percent of the students at Illinois Wesleyan University 
received some form of financial aid. 

Chapter 6 A Free and independent Press? 121 


A Free and Independent Press? 

Many an incoming Argus editor was surprised to learn that the First 
Amendment, which guarantees the right of free speech, does not apply to private 
schools. While students may run the newspaper, whatever freedom they have 
comes by the grace of the administration — since the university is considered the 
publisher and therefore named co-defendant in libel lawsuits. 

Even with a supportive administration, running an independent newspaper on 
a campus as small and intimate as Illinois Wesleyan's can be challenging. While 
college newspapers do not exist to appease all campus factions, they must cer- 
tainly try to get along with them in order to gain some degree of journalistic suc- 
cess. If, heaven forbid, The Argus ever failed to satisfy its readers, it directly set 
itself up for attack. Unhappy readers not only voiced their objections in the 
classroom and on the quad, but also let the entire campus know their gripes by 
writing a letter and ironically having it printed in the very newspaper with which 
they were angry — thanks to the principle of free speech. 

While letters to the editor did not appear in the newspaper's first three years, 
evidence of unsatisfied readers surfaced as early as December 10, 1894. Editors 
chastised apparently disgruntled readers in an editorial titled "Don't Complain:" 
Remember that it takes an exceedingly small lot of brains to complain, 
and remember that it is very far from an easy task to find, every two 
weeks, twelve pages of matter interesting to the students, without draw- 
ing from any and every source. So, if items from the daily papers inter- 
esting to some of the students frequently appear in The Argus, don't 
imagine we are having an easy time of it, and get disgruntled because we 
do not rewrite articles upon which we could not improve, and to do 
which would take a great deal more time than we have to give the paper. 
If you do not think it takes time, try to give us some news yourself, say 
enough to fill up a column of locals. You will find it no "snap," we 
assure you. Don't complain when we are doing our best, but help us all 
you can. It is easy to dislike things, but harder to remedy them. 
Readers have since written letters to proclaim their views and to remind The 
Argus that while it may be "all seeing and all knowing," its coverage is not 
always perfect. As Argus staffers grew ever more conscious of trying to be a 
real newspaper, the letters of complaint naturally increased. One student's criti- 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 1 22 

cism in 1988 summarized the problem: that of coverage, "or lack thereof. ... It 
seems the Argus is now following the pattern of the rest of our nation's media by 
reporting only the sensational in regards to feminist issues, and avoiding the 
everyday concerns facing today's women and men." Over the years, readers 
have consistently reprimanded the newspaper when, in their eyes, it devoted too 
much or too little space to certain issues and organizations. And of course any- 
thing negative, however true or substantiated, often met with complaints. 

Media and the Administration 

While the Wesleyan administration in 1993-94 remains committed to the 
idea of a free and independent college press, such was not always the case. 
Early Argus editorial pages — the entire paper, for that matter — reflected the large 
influence administrators had over the newspaper. Editorials often applauded the 
university and the administration, rarely opposing anything it did or said. 
Speaking in the university's voice of authority, an October 5, 1903 editorial 
urged students to remember their studies: "A good year is expected and will be 
realized if every one enrolled at the Wesleyan as a student, is a student indeed." 
Editors in the June 9, 1922 edition praised the Wesleyan spirit, "WESLEYAN 
EXPECTS YOUR BEST. Give her your best, freely, happily, and humbly and 
the spirit of Wesleyan will be yours." 

Not until the 1930s did editors begin to use editorials to educate readers 
instead of as administrative yea-sayers. Editor Ralph E. McCoy was one of the 
first editors to defy the administration. "I introduced the concept of investigative 
reporting to The Argus [in 1936]," he said. "We had a very energetic staff who 
liked digging." 

In spring 1937, McCoy and his staff reported that Illinois Wesleyan had lost 
its approved rating with the American Association of University Women "as a 
direct result of Wesleyan's being discredited by the Association of American 
Universities at an earlier date." It didn't take much digging, however, for an arti- 
cle on the loss of accreditation appeared in The New York Times. Even so, 
McCoy said that President Harry W. McPherson ('06) — a former Argus editor 
himself — was not too eager to have news of it appear in the campus newspaper. 
Nonetheless, "AAUW Takes Wesleyan Off Approved List: Is A Result of 
Discrediting of School By A. A. U.," appeared as the lead story in the April 14th 
issue. On the same page editors printed a letter from McPherson denying rumors 
that Wesleyan had also lost its accreditation from the North Central Association 
of Colleges and Secondary Schools it has held since 1916. McPherson assured 
students and faculty that 

because of certain requirements, now being worked out, the institution 
was not included on the latest approved list [of the AAU]. . . . We have 
been assured, however, that as soon as we can measure up to these require- 
ments, we shall again be so listed. ... It is frankly admitted by all that 
Wesleyan never did better work than it is doing at present. The total 
reputation of the institution is steadily improving, financially and otherwise. 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 125 

had the power to influence the administration by printing articles, editorials, and 
letters which brought serious campus concerns to the forefront. In the fall of 
1960, The Argus addressed the then-controversial issue of faculty salary raises. 
The opinion/editorial pages allowed faculty to voice their opinions for and against 
President Bertholf 's faculty salary plan. Though salaries did not increase that year, 
The Argus brought the issue into public discussion. One professor commended 
the staff, under the editorship of Dori Andresen Danielson ('61), on its efforts to 
push the administration toward a decision. "It pleases me to see in The Argus 
and to hear in conversation that students are genuinely interested in the welfare 
of both the faculty and their fellows," the professor wrote (December 9, 1960). 

Sometimes the issues went beyond the campus, as when The Argus splashed 
this story across its April 14, 1967 front page: "IWU attacks Apartheid." The 
article described a stand which hit uncomfortably close to home, given 
Wesleyan's affiliation with the Methodist Church. In it, "members of the admin- 
istration, faculty, and student body of Illinois Wesleyan" affirmed the position 
taken by the National Student Christian Federation "concerning the present bank 
arrangement of the Board of Missions of the Methodist Church with the First 
National Bank of New York . . . now extending credit to the government of 
South Africa." Front-page treatment drew attention to the story and helped 
mobilize the campus. "Anyone interested in further action or study should call 
Chaplain William White and other members of the All-University Council," the 
article concluded. In the fall, The Argus reported that the plea led to a petition 
circulated by the campus Religious Activities Commission (RAC) that drew 527 
signatures. "The petition prompted three Board of Mission members to explain 
Board actions and plans at a meeting of RAC," The Argus later reported 
(September 22, 1967). The Argus reported that on February 9, 1968 the 
Methodist Board of Missions withdrew their portfolio amounting to $10 million 
from the First National City Bank (March 1, 1968). 

The issue surfaced again in the 1980s, and an Argus story prompted Student 
Senate to demand that the Illinois Wesleyan Board of Trustees disclose informa- 
tion on IWU investment practices in South Africa (see Chapter 3). 

Although both incidents, two decades apart, put university officials in an 
awkward position, the administration made no attempt to censor student journal- 
ists' efforts. In fact, overall relations between the newspaper staff and the 
administration have been cordial. Most editors prior to 1980 attribute the lack of 
friction to the fact that they weren't very radical (given Wesleyan's stable, family 
atmosphere), and seldom did editorial boards test the regulations of the adminis- 
tration. In turn, administrators felt no need to censor the newspaper. "There was 
no censorship other than what we imposed on ourselves," Andersen Danielson 

The Argus and Student Senate — in Theory 

Beyond a doubt, the body that has had the most influence on The Argus has 
been the Illinois Wesleyan Student Senate. Since the 1930s Senate, referred to 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 1 26 

as the Student Union until the 1950s, has controlled the selection of The Argus' 
editor. In pre-Senate years, editors were chosen by a university board which 
elected a staff on the basis of class rank and ability. The job of editor became 
highly competitive when Senate began to elect an editor. The 1932 Student 
Union Constitution briefly outlined the Union's relationship with the newspaper: 
"It shall be the duty of the President ... To be present and voting at the election 
of the editor-in-chief of . . . the Argus." By 1947 the Student Union had devel- 
oped a Publications Committee which oversaw the editor's election as well as 
"[determined] the policies of all student publications." A 1969 constitutional 
amendment provided for a Communications Commission, comprised of senators 
and publications editors and advisers, which chose the Argus editor and associate 
editor by the consent of Senate and reviewed newspaper procedures and subse- 
quent constitutions. The Communications Committee changed to a Media 
Commission in 1973, which evolved into a single media commissioner position 
in the late 1970s. The Senate president's choice of media commissioner, a posi- 
tion which continued through the 1990s, was subject to approval by the Senate. 
Candidates for the position of editor completed an application and interviewed 
with the newly-elected commissioner — one often totally unfamiliar with the var- 
ious media. The commissioner then selected an editor who chose the remainder 
of the staff. 

Ironically, once appointed by Student Senate via the media commissioner, 
the first step for a new editor involved a desperate fight for money — with Student 
Senate. Only after a new editor petitioned Senate's Financial Advisory Board 
(FAB) for a carefully documented and argued budget could The Argus appear. 

The Argus and Student Senate — in Practice 

The power that Senate held over the newspaper caused "a running battle," as 
1970-72 editor Wetzel aptly termed it. Senate may have held the purse strings, 
but editors often used the power of the press to publicly complain about Senate's 
deficiencies. Headlines such as "Senators fail duty" (September 23, 1960) were 
no stranger to The Argus. That editorial took Senate to task for failing to finalize 
a budget — neither the first nor the last time such a complaint would be registered. 
The rumblings of Senate/Argws disputes began to appear in print in the 
1960s. In a November 13, 1964, while the staff didn't rebut criticism of The 
Argus that occurred in a previous Senate meeting, they did, in fact, question 
Senate's judgment: 

Twice that night senators, in the process of running student government, 
questioned us about the exclusion of certain copy. ... In our opinion 
senators could use their time discussing more vital issues . . . any ques- 
tioning of our policy should be handled with us first. 
Most of the squabbles were over Senate's efficiency. Throughout the 1960s, 
editorials urged Senate to become an "effective" organization. Editors wrote in 
the September 18, 1964 edition: 

We feel that there is much latent ability in this year's student senate. If 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 1 27 

the senators will become informed on issues which appear before senate, 
and then act on these issues, the senate could be very effective body this 
year. If they will not, Sunday evening [during senate meetings] will be 
turned into a weekly social hour. 
If Senate did not meet its deadlines, follow through on its promises or run an 
unflawed meeting, The Argus reported the miscue in the next week's editorial. 
"Senate efficiency demands knowledge of procedure" (October 1, 1971) blasted 
Senate's parliamentarian when one meeting was conducted outside formal guide- 
lines. The editorial not only blamed the parliamentarian, but Senate as well, 
arguing that 

Senate should be certain before they start the year that they have a 
parliamentarian who possesses an extensive knowledge of rules of pro- 
cedure so that questions can be cleared up quickly. ... To play the game 
and not know the rules is bad enough. But to attempt to referee without 
that knowledge is a crime. 
After The Argus ran in the red during the 1970-71 school year, an October 
22, 1971 editorial applauded Student Senate's financial bailout, but editors were 
disturbed that "some members of senate thought that an investigation of the con- 
tent of the Argus would be in order since an investigation of its finances had 
already been conducted." Tom Wetzel and his staff called any investigation of 
content "a dangerous encroachment on the freedom of the press." 

The dispute peaked in December, when an Argus front page proclaimed, 
"Senate ponders Argus problems." The lead began, "In surprise action last 
Sunday, Student Union Commission chairman Sue Elliott moved that Senate 
remove Argus editor Tom Wetzel. The motion was seconded" (December 10, 
1971). Elliott told the reporter that her call for removal "stemmed from 'less 
than satisfactory' coverage of SUC events, and the fact that the Argus had not 
yet turned in a record of its books, due in November." Wetzel, who was at the 
meeting, explained that a changeover in business managers complicated things, 
and "stated figures which purported to show that the Argus as of now is running 
in the black." Later, a forum was held in which Wetzel had to defend the Argus. 
Following a discussion of the motion to remove him, the vote went in Wetzel's 
favor, with the Communications Commission giving him "a vote of confidence," 
according to Student Senate minutes from January 9, 1972. 

In retrospect, The Argus/Senate tension was at its ebb when Senate was hard- 
ly mentioned in print. The more Senate appeared in the newspaper, the more 
power Senate had over The Argus. The early to mid-1970s provide the best 
example of Senate's influence, which began in the 1972-73 school year when 
Student Senate president Tom Patterson maintained a weekly column, 
"President's corner." While the column allowed the Senate president to explain 
Senate happenings and urge student involvement, it also set a dangerous prece- 
dent. Not since the early years, when Argus pages featured directives from the 
university president, had such space been guaranteed to a member of the campus 
power structure. It opened the doors for potential abuse, where the president's 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 1 28 

column could emerge as a counterpoint to Argus editorials. Unfortunately, that is 
exactly what happened the following year, when the tension between Student 
Senate and The Argus escalated into the messiest mudslinging controversy in the 
newspaper's 100-year history. 

As spring, 1973 drew to a close and the nation focused on the Watergate 
cover-up, Illinois Wesleyan was preoccupied by its own scandal. That spring 
Senate began a struggle with The Argus that would last for months. As reported 

in "Budgets, B 1, & Baloney" (May 5, 1973), an hour-long debate over 

qualifications of an Argus editor appointee led to the eventual approval of 
Thomas St. John. While much of the Argus staff did not feel St. John could han- 
dle the job, Senate disagreed, prompting outgoing sports editor Paul Breen ('75) 
to shout out "bullshit," which inspired the staff's use of the partially-formed 
word in its lead story headline. The problem some staff members had, according 
to outgoing editor and future second-time editor Dave Gathman, was that St. 
John had "never stepped foot in The Argus office" until he was named editor. 

The same Senate that approved St. John later did an about-face, as reported 
in "Argus Editor faces removal motion" (October 26, 1973). The motion asked 
for the removal of St. John "in the hope of salvaging the newspaper." The ratio- 
nale behind the motion noted that The Argus, being a "vital source of news at 
IWU," had popularly come under attack by people who showed "true concern" 
for it, that the slim margin of St. John's Senate confirmation showed their initial 
apprehension, and that "It is the feeling of many that said editor and members of 
his staff have not only failed to fulfill their duties and responsibilities, but they 
have also displayed an immature attitude and general incompetency. . . ." Senate 
postponed the motion for two weeks. 

During that time, Senate accusations and Argus countercharges flew fast and 
furious. Even the staff was sharply divided. Political Editor Bob Kamholz ('75) 
addressed the removal motion in his weekly column, "From the Smoke Filled 
Room," blaming Senate for firing non-specific charges at St. John and claiming 
that its criticism lacked both "cause and support." Kamholz saved his best shot 
for last: "In other words, Argus critics, put up or shut up." 

One week later, Senate devised an investigative committee to oversee Argus 
production, and the decision to remove or retain St. John was again delayed. 
Kamholz backed off and made a point of not mentioning the controversy in his 
column. St. John, meanwhile, used his position to defend himself and his politi- 
cally-torn newspaper in "Saint's Column," which took the editorial's place in the 
November 9, 1973 issue. In it, he responded to a letter printed below the col- 
umn, in which student Jeff Bright ('74) complained, "I am dissatisfied with The 
Argus after eight issues. I feel cheated, in fact, that the staff ... did so little 
reporting. ... try again, crew." 

St. John's column responded directly to Bright's criticism, again using 
Kamholz's "put up or shut up" method. Citing Bright's letter as "the straw that 
broke the camel's back," he addressed Bright personally, rather than the student 
body, because the letter did not come from an unbiased source: "I still believe 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 1 29 

that the only articles that were submitted to me that I did not publish were two of 
the three that you have given me . . . Don't try again, Jeff." The St. John chapter 
came to a close on November 16, as reported in the lead story, "Editor St. John 
resigns After Senate Acquittal." According to the article, St. John addressed the 
Senate after finding out that he was no longer under investigation: "I would like 
to thank those of you who voted for me and not thank those who voted against 
me, and, as of about five seconds ago, I resign." In that same issue, two letters 
defended St. John and congratulated him on his resignation, calling Senate's han- 
dling of the incident a "pitiful example of justice" and a "sludge slinging" match. 
In his column, Kamholz blasted Senate for falsely suggesting St. John's incom- 
petence and blamed them for forcing the editor's resignation. Kamholz conclud- 
ed by comparing St. John to outgoing President Richard Nixon in the wake of 
Watergate, claiming that both men were "presumed guilty without the question 
of innocence . . . being considered." 

By November 30, 1973, Judy Bubert had taken the reins of The Argus with 
one thing in mind: "I think it's time to get The Argus out of politics and back 
into journalism," Bubert wrote in her first editorial. While her intentions may 
have been noble, she edited The Argus for only two issues before resigning due 
to personal reasons. 

So, again, Gathman stepped into The Argus limelight and became co-editor, 
along with former managing editor Jim Robinson. Kamholz, who remained on 
the staff despite the change in editors, used his column to urge readers to be 
patient with The Argus and to explain why the newspaper had difficulties doing 
its best: 

For those of you who expect the same results as a professional newspa- 
per, keep two things in mind: the people who work on it are students as 
well as employees, and the newspaper is not a private enterprise but it is 
tied to the student government and, hence, subject to all kinds of politi- 
cal maneuvering. 

When Student Senate president Tom Patterson suggested in the next issue 
that The Argus leave the "realm of politics," Gathman and Robinson chose not to 
respond. Even when it came time for The Argus to endorse Senate candidates — 
the traditional time for vendettas to surface — the newspaper did not wholly 
endorse either Patterson or his opponent, Ed Matushek ('75). Instead, the March 
1, 1974 editorial half-heartedly supported Patterson for re-election while highly 
recommending write-in votes. In this case, as with other flare-ups throughout the 
years, the controversy between Student Senate and The Argus came to an end 
only because the newspaper refused to fire back. By the end of the 1973-74 
school year, Patterson had kept his job, Kamholz became chairperson of the 
media commission and Paul Breen, one of the most outspoken during the St. 
John affair, had the editorship of the newspaper. 

While Argws/Senate battles have not been as heated since 1974, underlying 
tensions between the two organizations still flared. In the 1980s, The Argus 
noted that its relationship with Senate was "beginning to sound like the 
umpteenth round of Family Feud" (March 7, 1980). When Student Union com- 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 1 30 


Stop that press! 

Although Argus-Senate relations reached an all-time low in 1973-74, cartoonist Gary 
Lundberg provided some comic relief in this 1974 graphic of Senate President Jim 
Patterson and editors David Gathman and Jim Robinson. 

missioner Terry Mechling ('80) presented Senate with "a special report on 
Argus senate coverage," he said, "It is time the Student Senate stop the Argus 
from biting the hand that feeds it." Mechling proposed a motion that The Argus 
either fully support itself through advertising "or change editors — 'find someone 
who is for senate.'" 

Not all senators were against The Argus. Lee Christie ('81) told senate that 
"he felt it ridiculous that any newspaper be called upon to explain or answer for 
what it had written, and asked the senate if it felt the editors of the Times and 
Washington Post should answer to Congress or the President." In the end, 
Mechling's motion did not pass. 

In an editorial that same issue, Don Thompson and his staff recognized 
Senate for the positive effect it had on the campus, noting that "being a senator is 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 131 

often a thankless job" and that each year Senate is responsible for disbursing 
more than $90,000 collected from student activity fees. But the editorial con- 
cluded, "It remains a vital role of the Argus to cover, and comment on, how 
those student funds are spent, and the Argus will continue to do so." 

As a matter of perspective, it should be noted that WESN also had its prob- 
lems with Senate. The November 1, 1985 Argus reported that Senate fired the 
station manager and closed the radio station "after weeks of deliberation" 
because of alleged FCC violations. Cited for the shut-down: insufficient educa- 
tional and cultural programming, improper training of freshmen and sub-profes- 
sional quality of broadcasting and management. 

Another dispute in November 1989 came when a columnist (who happened 
to be the president of the College Republicans) submitted his November 10 
effort, "The Argus is too liberal," and assumed that it would be printed as a col- 
umn. However, because the article attacked The Argus, its staff and its policies, 
editors were faced with an awkward decision: should they publish an attack from 
one of their own who has referred to the staff as "they," not "we"? The colum- 
nist labeled the newspaper "a piece of journalistic trash, constantly bombarding 
the Greek system and providing a narrow, liberal viewpoint on nearly every 
aspect of campus life." Under the editorship of J. Arlen Bowyer, the editorial 
board decided to print the column as a signed letter to the editor. The irate 
columnist, who also held a seat in Senate, raised the issue at the next meeting 
and called for an immediate Senate investigation of The Argus. As reported by 
features editor Bob Hessling, the columnist accused the newspaper of censor- 
ship, and a bitter debate ensued. Support for the idea began to build, but Senate 
president Amy Peterson ('90) calmed things down by talking with individual 
senators and referring individual gripes to the media commissioner. Argus advis- 
er James Plath said that Peterson was "really level-headed" and might have put 
the matter to rest without any input from him. "But just to be on the safe side, I 
told her that as adviser to The Argus, my advice, in the event of any attempt by 
Student Senate to investigate the newspaper or regulate content, would be to stop 
publishing rather than allow its freedom to be jeopardized," Plath said. 

While the media commissioner in 1989 served as a solution to the problem, 
later staffs have had friction with their Senate liasion. A dispute in spring 1992 
demonstrated the change in Senate coverage. When Student Senate denied Tariq 
Khan's ('93) appointment as media commissioner — he had been jointly chosen 
by president Sara Kaufman ('93) and vice-president Adam Keys ('94) — The 
Argus not only gave the story front-page play, but covered the issue in the editor- 
ial. Khan, who had served on five of the seven campus media, originally lost the 
appointment because the outgoing media commissioner (Khan's most vocal 
opponent) said she felt he was not qualified. She then announced that the focus 
for the next year would be on WESN, the campus radio station. 

Naturally, The Argus took exception. But unlike those from the mid-1970s, 
the editorial "Commissioner needs to focus on all media" (March 20, 1992) 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 1 32 

relied more on logic than emotion: 

"WESN is going to be the main focus of the media commissioner next 
year," said outgoing media commissioner . . . during the most recent and 
controversial Senate meeting. Oh really? ... In a perfect world, all aspects 
of Wesleyan media would work together. . . . The media commissioner — 
the very person who should see that Senate serves their best interests — 
should not place them in the position of competing with one another, 
whether fighting for funds or for his or her other attention or support. 
The Argus, under the editorship of Darlene Ostrowski ('93), managed to address 
an issue that hit close to home without letting it take precedence over other cam- 
pus news. Senate did finally approve Khan in an emergency meeting the follow- 
ing week, and, once again, the less the newspaper tried to square off against 
Senate, the better off the whole campus seemed. 

Greek Battles of Not-Quite-Epic Proportion 

As early as the 1950s, The Argus found ways to bash both Student Senate 
and the Greek system. A March 7, 1956 editorial criticized the organizations, 
claiming misrepresentation in Senate due to the domination of Greeks: 

In actual practice, however, Student Union representatives must main- 
tain two loyalties . . . one to the student body and the other to their fra- 
ternities or sororities. We suspect that the latter loyalty receives more 
consideration than the former. Hence that apathy on the part of the unaf- 
filiated who correctly look upon the Student Union as a playground for 
the petty issues of petty factions. 
Any campus with Greek organizations inevitably finds itself polarized, at 
times, between the Greek and independent students. Just as predictably, such 
divisions make their way into the campus newspaper, where the staff members' 
allegiance shifts from year to year. Early Argus staffs were predominantly 
Greek, and so tension between the media and Greek system was non-existent. 
News pages often devoted weekly space to the Greeks, announcing initiations, 
socials, rush procedures and pledge practices. A typical example from the 
November 6, 1902 Argus read, "The Tau Kappa Epsilon fraternity held their first 
initiation of the year last Thursday afternoon and evening. ... At night the ritual- 
istic work was done, and after this a spread was given in their honor at the T. K. 
E. lodge." Thirty-five years later, the newspaper still hailed every event, func- 
tion and outing, with such items as "Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority . . . held an 
owl dance Monday night ... a theater party Tuesday night ... a casino party 
Wednesday night ... a pirate party Thursday night" (September 29, 1931) and 
"Kappa Delta held its annual Homecoming meeting and spread at the chapter 
house" (October 21, 1936). While the newspaper confirmed its support of the 
Greek system in its pages week after week, some editors felt a certain tension. 
"There was a conflict between the Greeks and non-fraternity and sorority mem- 
bers," 1936-37 editor Ralph E. McCoy remembered. "The Greeks controlled the 
social life [on campus], and those who couldn't afford to join felt like second- 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 1 33 

class citizens." If editors held any opinions against the Greek system, they felt 
compelled to keep those opinions to themselves — at least until the 1950s, when a 
greater percentage of students on campus were non-Greek. 

Tensions between The Argus and the Greeks mounted in 1956, when editors 
claimed that Greek affiliation ran counter to Wesleyan's liberal arts program: 
"The editorial board refuses to recognize fraternities and sororities as integral 
parts of a liberal education in that they often become institutions of intellectual 
domination" (April 11). For the most part, however, anti-Greek bias was not 
always so clear. Wetzel explained that when he was editor in the late 1960s, 
"The Argus was never, in my memory, anti-Greek, but it was perceived as anti- 
Greek." Wetzel felt this perception was because Greek members no longer held 
the majority of editorial positions. People either did not feel comfortable work- 
ing with a predominantly independent staff, or they did not have the time to 
devote to the newspaper. 

"We spent, on average, up to 60 hours a week in The Argus office. The key 
was to find someone more dedicated to journalism than to being Greek. That 
wasn't always easy," Wetzel said. Former editor Ruth Nordin Zervas ('63) 
agreed. She admitted that during her 1961-62 editorship, the editorial board was 
completely independent, "but [Greek students] didn't care enough to come to the 
office to offer their help, either." This may have been why so few Greeks 
belonged to the newspaper staff, as a February 15, 1963 editorial stated: 

The very same students [who complain about the newspaper] have never 

thought of offering their services to correct the evils they believe exist in 

the content of the paper. Usually their criticism is not based upon what 

they have read in the paper, but is based upon what they think they have 

read in the paper. 

When The Argus mentioned Greeks unfavorably in editorials or chose to 

print negative articles, it was often to comment on the social life offered by the 

Greek system. As a 1956 editorial put it, the Greek system was "a refuge from 

social rejection" (April 11, 1956). 

Some Argus staffs made no attempts to hide their feelings, especially in the 
fall as fraternities and sororities were preparing for rush. The October 6, 1989 
issue featured a cartoon panel of a cowboy with a Greek-letter branding iron who 
advised freshmen, "Keep things O.K. at the OK Corral . . . Don't Rush in, or 
you might get burnt." Because such unprovoked editorial outbursts made the 
Greek community understandably sensitive, any article written about the frater- 
nity/sorority system that was not a showcase or endorsement was interpreted as 
being anti-Greek. Hard news pertaining to the Greek system became hard for 
them to take. When a freshman reporter covered the temporary closing of a fra- 
ternity house due to "health code violations" and reported the cockroach infesta- 
tion and kitchen grease cited by health inspectors, he received threats from sev- 
eral of the fraternity brothers (September 20, 1991). 

Response to the front-page article was overwhelmingly negative, with read- 
ers complaining about the newspaper's long-time bias. Many noted that the arti- 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 1 34 

cle seemed a deliberate attempt to sabotage the Greeks on rush day — the day that 
the issue appeared. David Priess ('93), a representative of the Greek community, 
expressed their outrage: 

Despite previous experience with the anti-Greek slant of The Argus, we 
were shocked at the audacity and blatant bias evidenced ... on the front 
page. ... It is a disgrace that a paper supported by the fees paid by all 
Wesleyan students, including the lambasted Greek affiliates, has kept 
this trend in light of the facts. It is an embarrassment to the campus as a 
whole that the front page was turned into a billboard for anti-Greek bigots. 
The problem, Plath told the staff in his weekly critique, was that the reporter 
neglected to lead with the most recent news — in this case, whatever steps the fra- 
ternity had taken to bring their building back up to health standards. "I can 
understand why the Greeks were upset," Plath said, "but it underscores the diffi- 
culty college newspapers face each day. The campus is far less forgiving of an 
off-day from a reporter than, say, a varsity football or basketball player who may 
have cost his team a victory." 

Plath said that since he's been adviser, the newspaper has received a number 
of threatening calls. "The last one occurred in 1990, 1 believe, when the newspa- 
per learned that an international student was severely beaten at a fraternity party. 
The callers were trying to get the editors to kill the story. But when you have a 
student who files a complaint with city police and needs treatment at a local hos- 
pital, bad publicity or not, you've got to run the story." 

Tensions between independents and Greeks never seem to go away. Even in 
this relatively calm centennial year, editors ocassionally hear comments such as, 
"It was good to see an editorial that actually endorsed the Greek system," or 
"Please don't quote me on that — my house doesn't approve of The Argus." 

Columnists Readers Loved to Hate 

By far, columns elicited the greatest and liveliest response from students and 
faculty. While The Argus has had to remain objective and try not to intentionally 
anger campus groups, columnists have always been given the freedom to say 
whatever was on their minds and offend anyone they pleased. Certain writers 
fed off of negative energy and wrote to purposely annoy people or stir up the cam- 
pus to get students thinking. These are the writers who stand out in Argus history. 

Charles Martel, the columnist writing under a pseudonym during the 1960s, 
so fit the mold that he or she had to write anonymously. According to 1961-62 
editor Ruth Nordin Zervas, Martel in his original year was a woman who "didn't 
need to hide behind a false name. She was the type of woman who would stand 
up in Senate meetings and yell." Mattel's identity was a secret to the newspaper 
staff as well as the campus, since the writer dropped off his (or her) columns 
without anyone seeing. While Nordin Zervas hinted that Martel might have been 
1962-63 editor Phylis Sanders Salak, Sanders Salak said that "No one on campus 
knew who he was. They had a strong assumption it was one person in particular, 
but they were wrong. I'll preserve the mystery," she said. 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 1 35 

Martel had such a knack for annoying readers that complaints came not only 
from students, but from Bloomington-Normal residents and IWU alumni as well. 
One of his first columns in 1962 advised newcomers how to be "in" at Illinois 

Fraternities: If you want to be in on this campus you should join a fra- 
ternity. Fraternities can teach you conformity and group think, both of 
which you need to be "in" . . . 

Politics: You are a Republican — and don't you forget it! This is a 
Republican university. It's easy to ridicule JFK and family — so go 
ahead and do it. You'll get a reputation as a quick political wit and "a 
good head." Practice saying "Peace Corps" and sneering at the same time. 
To Sum Up: Practice seeing the world from an upper-middle-class, 
Protestant-oriented, conservative, Republican, moderately pro-Greek 
point of view and you will be well on your way to being "in". ... In 
short, insincerity and conformity are the keys to being "in" on this cam- 
pus. (September 28, 1962) 
In a single column, Martel was able to offend a majority of people in the 
Republican bastion of Bloomington-Normal. His column initiated a war of 
words with student Edward Coursey ('63), who responded with a letter on "How 
to be 'out'" (October 5, 1962). In it, he defended each of the traits and organiza- 
tions that Martel had mocked, calling Martel "narrow-minded" and a "misfit." 
Martel defended himself and his column the following week. Soon, however, so 
many people were offended each week that Martel stopped addressing his read- 
ers, opting to simply write what he felt. 

While the opinions of columnists do not "reflect the opinions of the editors," 
as The Argus staff "masthead" proclaims, editor Sanders Salak nonetheless 
defended Martel in print. When an alumnus wrote a letter chiding Martel for his 
notion that only the "rich and successful" come back to IWU for Homecoming 
(October 26, 1962), an editor's note followed: "The paper does not set out 
directly to make people happy, but to reflect student opinion and report campus 
news. It would be sad . . . if the situation were reversed" (November 2, 1962). 

Martel became so infamous that his frank, liberal sentiment and legend were 
carried on in later years by others writing as Charles Martel II, III and IV in the 
1963, 1964 and 1965 school years. While successors were eager to keep Martel 
an underclassmen forever — blasting the conservative campus majority, Greek 
"discrimination" or the pious attitudes of returning alumni — none were as enthu- 
siastic or offensive as the original. 

"The Gadfly" was another column written by multiple students over a span 
of 18 years. According to 1965 editor Bill Joyce ('66), the column began when 
"One of us was extremely hot about something and we couldn't talk about it in 
the editorial, because the board couldn't agree. But we liked the idea so much 
we just had to write and print it." Joyce admitted that the editor never wrote the 
column, but as to its specific author, "We made a blood vow never to tell," he 
said. The first Gadfly column began with comic-strip, crime-fighing flair, estab- 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 136 

lishing the secret-identity columnist as one who would boldly comment on soci- 
ety's problems and Wesley an' s quirks: 

The Gadfly is not a leader, nor a pretender to authority; he is merely the 
conscience and whipping-boy so needed in our submissive age. He is 
especially needed now in this era of extreme passivism, ignorance and 
complete disregard for the real. He is especially needed on our campus 
where the only apparent opinion is no opinion at all. (February 19, 1966) 
Since its debut, the column has faded in and out of The Argus' pages, appear- 
ing semi-regularly from 1966-72, 1974-77 and 1980-83. Initially, the column 
criticized university regulations and personnel, as in a December 1, 1967 column 
which demanded that the faculty stop acting as parents and trust students as 
equals: "The administration is interested in you as commodity: to sit behind a 
desk and to stand at the blackboard. They know the university exists for stu- 
dents. They've just avoided telling you." Likewise, an August 19, 1966 column 
assailed the adminstration for being "somewhat sluggish with a pitifully poor 
reaction to change" — a charge that would be echoed by successive Gadflys. 

By the early 1980s, the outrage that powered the original Gadfly columns 
had diminished to stream-of-consciousness speculation ("If half the people I hear 
complaining about Mr. Reagan being our next president voted for somebody else 
then I don't believe Mr. Reagan could have won") and rhetorical questioning 
("How much of our lives is the university allowed to control") to religion 
(November 7, 1980). By the time The Gadfly disappeared, its column had 
become full of personal anger and private jokes. 

The more infamous columnists of the 1980s and 1990s never pretended to be 
spokespersons for society. They were the scourges, lone voices who had a knack 
for airing personal gripes with such twisted logic that a deluge of letters was sure 
to follow. Columnist John Snyder introduced himself in the September 14, 1988 
edition as being "pro-life" and "pro-freedom," citing the Republican party as the 
"best tool to incorporate these views to work for the American people." Like 
other controversial columnists, Snyder dragged as many examples into his 
columns as possible, sometimes cluttering his point, as in this column which crit- 
icized the media: 

The media tells us that the Mid-East is full v of "crazies" and that 
Americans should not go there. Could there only be a few bad apples in 
the group? Maybe the hanging of Col. Higgins could have been prevent- 
ed, but not by blaming the Israelis. . . . When that nut pulled out the AK- 
47 down in Louisiana, or wherever, and started firing on his old employ- 
ers, he could have easily killed an Iranian. That doesn't mean that Iran 
should be over there saying that the United States is full of these "cra- 
zies." (September 29, 1989) 
Eventually, Snyder got to the point. He argued that the media chooses to make 
or break people, and urged students not to believe everything they read. 

In an age where "political correctness" was the media standard, Tracy 
Krueger ('95) also took an opposite stand, extolling the virtues of political and 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 1 37 

social conservatism, embracing traditional gender and religious values, and tout- 
ing a person's right to an opinion — whether or not someone else thinks it sexist, 
racist or incorrect. Writing under his own name, Krueger and his right-wing 
conservatism caught the campus by surprise in the fall of 1992. One of his first 
columns, "Hate this country? It's not Bush's fault, it's ours," was followed by a 
barrage of letters with sentiments similar to those expressed by Josh Yount ('95): 
"In reading Mr. Krueger 's first two columns of the year, I'm torn between 
whether he is jokingly proposing these ideas to elicit a response, or if he is really 
as crazy as his columns portray him to be" (October 9, 1992). 

Despite such "fan mail," Krueger, like the controversial columnists before 
him, continued to offend week after week. Whether he was serious or simply 
baiting students, Krueger heightened interest, if not awareness. Each week the 
campus waited to read the latest hard-to-believe Kruegerisms — then wrote their 
own letters of outrage. After one of his 1992 columns bemoaned the moral 
decay of the United States and the promiscuous attitudes of its citizenry, students 
pronounced him "insane" and "misguided," but people certainly talked about 
it — in classrooms, living units, and Memorial Center hangouts. 

The Argus and Campus Minorities 

Essays from an 1 896 sophomore writing class that were printed in The Argus 
as examples of superior argumentation included the front page article, "A Glance 
at the Indian Question." The student's argument revealed the racist but then- 
accepted attitudes of the time: 

We do not think it necessary to argue that the Indian is a savage. This 
fact is too well established to require proof. Neither would anyone but a 
savage require evidence that the white race is civilized. True, we have to 
accept the Indian as a branch of the human family, but were he judged 
from his habits of life, he would without doubt be placed among the 
brute creation rather than among human beings. (January 10, 1896) 
In an article following this essay, The Argus used its freedom of speech to preach 
prejudice against American Indians, while voicing approval of the United States 
Indian reservation system. With this rejection of American Indian rights, the 
newspaper launched into a century of less-than-equal minority coverage — much 
of it understandable, given the fact that even in 1993-94, people of color com- 
pose only 14 percent of the student body. 

A front-page essay in the October 29, 1912 Argus was preceded by an edi- 
tor's note describing the author as "a colored student, who attended the Illinois 
Wesleyan for three years up to the time of his death in the spring of 1912." 
Though editors added that Clarence Johnson "commanded the esteem and 
respect of all his fellow students," The Argus never mentioned his death — nor 
did faculty minutes or The [Bloomington] Pantagraph. 

Johnson's essay on "The American Negro" recounted the history of slavery 
and defended his culture against popularized racism. The writer acknowledged 
but one advantage to slave labor — "the owner had absolute power over his work- 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 1 38 

ingmen and enjoyed the fruits of their labor" — but pointed out its many defects. 
Arguing that "a country cannot develop when there are so many to hold it back," 
Johnson conceded that "now and then we hear of some low and brutal negro 
assaulting a white woman," but added, 

The story is headlined accenting the fact that it was some "husky, burly 
negro" or if he is lynched the headline reads, "A big brute of a negro 
lynched for the common cause," which naturally arouses the strongest 
passion . . . The publicity given such acts creates the false impression 
that the negro as a class is lawless, while the contrary is true. 
Though The Argus never ran such headlines, Johnson's essay was a reminder of 
the power the press has to alter public opinion. Yet, he concluded on an opti- 
mistic note, proclaiming that "all signs are encouraging." 

The "sunlight" and optimism of which Johnson spoke had yet to reach the 
campus by 1943. In a campus poll, students were asked whether they favored 
racial integration at Wesleyan. At the time, IWU had no African-American stu- 
dents or faculty. 

According to The Argus, one student believed that blacks should not be 
restricted from attending Wesleyan, though "we shouldn't necessarily encourage 
them." Another student felt integration depended on "the type of Negro he is. If 
he were of the better class, then it would be a good thing for the rest of the stu- 
dents to have him here, although some of them would hate it." Still another stu- 
dent gave a firm "no," because she felt that "while we might get along in the 
classroom, we wouldn't know where to draw the line in social activities" (March 
1944). Throughout the 1950s, articles on blacks and black issues were ignored 
in favor of campus activities. 

That lack of coverage persisted until December 1963, when America was 
still trying to cope with the loss of a president. The Argus, unable to devote 
space to Kennedy's assassination until three weeks later due to Thanksgiving 
break, reserved the December 6 opinion pages for a memorial tribute. Beneath 
the editorials and devotions appeared a poem titled "The Little Black Boy 
Watching," which described the feelings of a young shoe-shiner who worked on 
the streets of Washington, D.C. In his mourning, he found a common bond with 
whites as he describes his background and grief: 
. . . And that flag 

which lovingly embraces 
the casket 
On the caisson which also wheeled 
the great Old Man Abe — 
That flag is also my flag 
Father died for her on "D" day, 
And Grandpa on the Western front. 
And Bill my brother died for her in Korea . . . 
And my tears are crystal white 

like yours who are so fair and blond. 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 139 

Rolling down my cheek they 

might look brown 
But your heart and my heart are 

the same color 
And we are brothers in sorrow . . . 
Such a poem was obviously intended to remind or convince readers that peo- 
ple grieve the same — and by extension, are the same — regardless of color. 
Illinois Wesley an apparently needed to be reminded, for in 1963 racial discrimi- 
nation was highly evident. "Race Problems at Wesleyan," a column written 
under the pseudonym Charles Martel, critcized a group of IWU students who 
yelled racial slurs at a visiting black vocal group: 

There is a sick segment of our white student body who must find it ago- 
nizingly hard to put up with the infinitesimal Negro portion of the stu- 
dent body. . . . Sometimes I get violently disgusted when I think about 
the unbelievable baseness, the incredible cruelty, and the extreme self- 
degradation of which people of my age are capable. And we are the 
young. (February 8, 1963) 
Martel attributed the racist comments to those whom he believed were present at 
the event — high school students and fraternity pledges. His column prompted 
two diverse reactions. One, written by a fraternity member, defended fraternities 
as "just as receptive to other races as those students not in fraternities. In some 
respects more so" (February 15, 1963). The author claimed that fraternities were 
not to blame, because a high school student started the disturbance. The second 
letter from 12 individuals applauded Martel's column, saying, "It is our sincere 
desire that this letter stimulate some serious thought on the moral and social 
implications of the situation and prompt students to question their individual 
positions concerning the whole area of race relations." Through such columns 
and letters, the issue of racism came to the forefront, and a moral conscience 
began to grow at Illinois Wesleyan. 

But as the nation went, so went Wesleyan. Tensions mounted in the fall of 
1968. In a year which had already seen the assassinations of two civil rights 
activists, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Senator Robert F. Kennedy, The Argus 
reported an incident where students charged a local restaurant with racial dis- 
crimination. When a night manager "falsely accused" three IWU black students 
of harassing waitresses and disturbing business and subsequently called police, 
the students took their dispute to Student Senate to air their concerns. While no 
formal charges were filed against them, the students also reported the incident to 
the Illinois State Human Relations Commission (HRC). An October 18 article, 
"Lums apologizes after HRC probe," explained that written apologies were sent 
to the students after the HRC investigation. The night manager kept his job. 

Although minority coverage never appears to have been a priority, the front- 
page placement of this story indicates that The Argus was willing to cover tough 
stories in a time of racial tension. Under the editorship of Bob Sweet ('69), The 
Argus also developed a weekly column on "IWU and the Black Student." While 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 140 

it only ran five weeks, the column attempted to portray a range of ideas regard- 
ing the role of blacks on Wesleyan's campus; two black independent students, a 
white professor, a white Greek student and a white administrator wrote the 
columns. The final edition, "White 'progress' too little, too late," written by 
Black Student Association President Wenona Whitfield, expressed her loss of 
faith in the white Wesleyan community and her need to rely on the rise of black 

What the white community has shown me in two full years of attendance 

here at Wesleyan is that they for too long and too late have dealt with 

problems which are no longer relevant. Yet, though I am discontent with 

the white man's burden, I must take hope in the development of the 

black man, within that same period. The black student on this and other 

campuses has long forgotten your promises of good faith. Your main aim 

should no longer be how to place the black man in your culture, but 

rather how to place yourself in the black culture. (October 25, 1968) 

The 1970s saw the rise of "Black Consciousness" . . . but not in The Argus. 

Other than the near-obligatory articles that ran during Black History Month each 

February — usually variations on the same theme, "we've come a long way, but 

there's still a long way to go" — the only article to appear was 1978's two-part 

"Black Calendar," a synopsis of major events in African- American history. 

Despite attempts to educate students during Black History Month, an under- 
current of racism remained a part of campus life. From time to time student atti- 
tudes would surface, as in the February 16, 1990 front-page story which 
announced, "Ferguson R.A. dismissed for 'bad judgement.'" According to staff 
writer David Moll ('90), "A Ferguson Hall resident assistant was fired last week 
for posting a pamphlet that some students and administrators found racially 
offensive." The pamphlet, titled "Illini Basketball Players Entrance Exam," fea- 
tured "caricatured [drawings of] black basketball players, and of a person in a Ku 
Klux Klan robe bouncing a black man's head and carrying a baseball bat." Moll 
reported that the pamphlets were posted in response to requests for more reading 
information in the bathrooms. Though the R.A. claimed that she did not read the 
pamphlets completely before posting them, she was fired because the incident 
caused a breach of trust between the R.A. and her residents. 

While Argus staffers worked on the story, their faculty adviser received a 
late-night phone call from a member of the administration. According to Plath, 
the caller said that campus relations were "running pretty smoothly now," and 
that there was no need to stir things up. "I told him I understand completely, but 
added that's exactly the kind of thinking that would have kept Nelson Mandela 
in prison [in South Africa]," Plath said. "The caller replied, 'Okay, but see what 
you can do to make sure they report things fairly and accurately.'" Plath added 
that since he's been at Illinois Wesleyan (1988), that's all the administration has 
ever expected from the student newspaper. 

Though the administration may have felt that racial tension had dissipated, it 

Chapter 6 A Free and Independent Press? 1 41 

surfaced again in a column written by Christopher Baron ('95) titled "You can't 
tell a racist by his cover" (November 21, 1991). Baron wrote that while he did 
not believe in the white supremacy advocated by former Ku Klux Klan Grand 
Wizard and then-Louisiana gubernatorial candidate David Duke, he did agree 
with Duke's opinion that affirmative action and forced bussing should be abol- 
ished. Baron tried to make the point that holding a belief shared by an avowed 
racist does not, by association, make him (or anyone else) a racist. But his col- 
umn elicited a fiery response from an anonymous letter-writer who accused 
Baron of racism because he did agree with some of Duke's theories. "Baron rep- 
resents a large number of students on this campus and provides another example 
of the increase of racism in the past ten years," the writer claimed, arguing that it 
was simply one person's way of trying to justify attitudes that would keep 
minorities in the minority. 

Months later, the nation was reminded of racism's continuing presence when 
the first Rodney King verdict, which acquitted two white police officers of 
police brutality against a black man, was released. While L.A. and parts of the 
nation rioted, Wesleyan gathered in peace. As reported in "King verdict inspires 
local activism" (May 8, 1992), a peace rally brought more white students than 
black. Wesleyan student Joy Meadows ('93) commended Wesleyan's peaceful 
protest, saying, "we [African-American students] don't always feel we have 
[whites'] support." 

But support was not campus-wide. The Argus reported on May 8 that some 
students said they witnessed employees from the advancement office destroying 
signs promoting the rally. After petitions demanding apologies from the workers 
were circulated, the administration responded. According to The Argus, 
"[President] Myers said the employees 'acted spontaneously and personally. 
They were not acting on official orders from the university.'" The advancement 
office apologized on behalf of their employees. 

Despite the lack of advertising, a larger-than-expected crowd gathered on the 
quad, and an Argus editorial applauded Wesleyan solidarity: "While other cam- 
puses rioted and plundered, Wesleyan staged a non-violent and well-organized 
demonstration. . . . For a small college where demonstrations occur and the 
majority of the student population could care less, this protest had a different 
atmosphere." At Illinois Wesleyan, according to The Argus, any demonstration 
that raised student consciousness was truly an event to be witnessed. 

After 100 years, has the campus progressed as far as Clarence Johnson hoped 
in 1912? A December 11, 1992 front-page article questioned, "Is there racism at 
Wesleyan?" And as the saying goes, If you have to ask. . . . 

A year later, Meadows provided an answer in this letter to the editor: 

I am the only African- American senior woman on this campus. That 
statement is not meant to involve feelings of sympathy and/or liberal 
guilt. It also may be of little relevance to the average reader, but, for me, 
it has meant almost four years of alienation and frustration. ... I cannot 

Chapter 6 A Free and independent Press? 1 42 

escape the struggle of people of color. I can, however, for the next few 
years enjoy the luxury of being simply Joy, not "Joy, you know, the 
black girl." (February 19, 1993) 
For the 1993-94 school year, 86 percent of the students enrolled at Illinois 
Wesleyan were Caucasian; 4 percent were Asian; 3 percent were African- 
American; 2 percent were Hispanic; 1 percent were American Indian; and 4 per- 
cent were "other." 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 143 


Now Featuring 

The Good Old Days 

During its first decade, The Wesleyan Argus printed short news notes (simi- 
lar to those in pre- Argus publications) to fill its inside pages. Among the most 

The university once maintained an extensive science museum in the base- 
ment of Hedding Hall, and on December 20, 1894, the newspaper reported that 
"A collection of 175 stuffed birds and 75 stuffed mammals, from Central and 
South America has been received at the Wesleyan for the museum. They come 
from the Smithsonian institution at Washington, being some of the duplicates of 
that immense museum." 

Birds were apparently quite beloved in the early days of "the Wesleyan," 
since it was customary for students to purchase and deliver turkeys to their often- 
unappreciative professors at the end of the term. According to The Argus, the 
university president was a good sport: "The logic class held a special session the 
last day of last term, and Miss Matheny in behalf of the class, with a very 'cute [sic] 
speech, presented Dr. Wilder with a live, twenty-pound turkey" (January 14, 1895). 

According to Argus reports, faculty and student interaction has been a tradi- 
tion at Illinois Wesleyan. But socializing was much less complicated when the 
graduating class numbered only 19 and could be treated to a last meal at the 
home of Dr. and Mrs. Wilder: 

The class went in a body with caps and gowns and new college colors 
flying. Mrs. Cooper [the housekeeper] served a beautiful supper, after 
which came the very novel and entertaining feature of the evening. 
Almost every Senior read an original poem. . . . (June 5, 1895) 

Along with such items, the 1895 Argus printed the first full-length features 
to appear in a Wesleyan publication. In "A Successful Alumnus," an anonymous 
writer told of Joseph F. McNaught (1877), who began working as general coun- 
sel for the Northern Pacific Railroad Company in Seattle when the city was "a 
mere village, consisting of a few wooden buildings and a population of 2000 
people" (November 15, 1895). The article gave a full account of McNaught's 
role in reclaiming tidelands. 

Occasionally a feature appeared on the front page, as with professor M.J. 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 144 

Elrod's "Vacation in Montana," in which he reported his trip to an Indian mis- 
sion, combining information and impression: "The Indian will not hunt, except 
for large game. Ducks and geese swarm on the ponds, creeks, and lakes, the val- 
leys are alive with chickens and the woods full of grouse, but the Indian pays no 
attention to such small fry" (November 3, 1899). 

When the newspaper's page size expanded from 1903-08, features dwindled. 
About this time, however, even the professors began to write in a more featurish 
style, with professor Cliff Guild abandoning jargon in favor of a more colloquial 
description of "The Solar System" (November 20, 1907). Meanwhile, students 
were blending fact and fiction to create a form that would be termed "New 
Journalism" some 65 years later. In "Christmas on the Carribeau," freshman 
Floyd Godfrey paired narrative with family history in a tale of shipwreck which 
concluded in rousing, tear-jerking fashion: "How the poor creatures screamed 
and yelled and jumped about as nearer drew their aid. It was a ship — to take 
them home" (January 17, 1908). Travel articles also were popular, with such 
offerings as "Five Hours in Pompeii" (December 1, 1909), "Athletics in Japan" 
(December 15, 1909) and "Mountain Top Experiences of My Last Summer's 
European Trip" (February 23, 1910). 

Beginning in October 1908, the Illinois Wesleyan Argus (as the new name- 
plate proclaimed) launched a series on "Chapters in Wesleyan Life." At a time 
when the university expanded to include 58 instructors and 1100 students (count- 
ing the preparatory and law schools, as well as anyone who took music lessons), 
the features were understandably introspective and nostalgic. The first, "Shall 
the Literary Societies Die?" recalled a time "when Wesleyan had live literary 
societies" and "the faculty published a quarterly magazine and the students a 
weekly paper. Now a bi-weekly organ edited by the students is all that remains 
of Wesleyan literary endeavor" (October 29, 1908). Later features in the series 
read like parts of the university's mission statement, outlining "Our Spiritual 
Activities" (November 26, 1908 and April 27, 1909) and reexamining rules of 
conduct for chapel and other religious observances. 

A High Society? 

Articles on campus traditions also frequently ran in The Argus. Among the 
liveliest was this June 10, 1913 account in which writers described the annual 
"Pajama Parade, Greeks in an Expurgated Revel," when in the wee hours 

venturesome spirits from one of the fraternities donned their garb for 
retiring and sallied forth to recruit others of their kind for an early 
Tuesday morning nightshirt parade. The dormitories of every house were 
raided, one by one, and the sleepers dislodged by feet, arms, legs, and 
otherwise pressed into line. After having made the rounds it was discov- 
ered that there were in line forty-three pairs of pajamas, eighteen night 
shirts, two bath robes and two men otherwise attired. . . . Mrs. Williams 
responded with threats of calling the patrol, but as three policemen had 
already made speeches for the company, the threats were unheeded. 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 145 

Details made this more than a simple news story, for the writers chronicled every 
step of the Pajama Parade, from the "melodious singing" to "Juliets" waving out 
of their windows at the women's residence hall, and from the "Wesleyan yells" 
and "steady tramp of bath room slippers" to the "beat of tin pans, drums and 
county fair squawkers" that answered them. The parade marched around 
Bloomington City Square, down to the Illinois Hotel, then traveled 

back down Main street to the dormitory, then to the homes of a few of 
the professors, where the drowsy scholars were given rude invitations to 
sally forth and deliver their best lectures which they did with the best 
grace possible. At 3 o'clock in the morning, chapel was held with full 
ceremonies. Refreshments were served. . . . After chapel was dismissed 
the color rush pole was pulled up, the rocks on the campus picked up 
and heaved at Normal U. tower and the Greeks went back to Athens and 
to bed. 
"It was a good live night. Amen," the article concluded. And according to 
The Argus, more than a few rowdy nights ended at the chapel, which in the early 
years was used for school assemblies of the high school sort. The inside pages 
were full of social events that, while not exactly front-page news, were an impor- 
tant part of college life. One account described the traditional rivalry between 
the freshmen and sophomore classes: 

Rumors were heard last week that a freshmen party was on foot. As a 
result several innocent freshies were raised from their peaceful slumber 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 146 

and kindly dunked in a watering trough. One of them also had a glow- 
ing sunset scene painted on his shirt-front by an addled egg. A few fee- 
ble yells in chapel the next morning gave evidence that several freshies 
were still in existence. . . . Colors were raised; the walks and buildings 
draped with paint and confusion for a period reigned supreme. (October 
The flag or "color rush" rivalry was so much a part of campus folklore that 
The Argus immortalized the annual conflict in an eight-stanza ballad on their 
December 15, 1908 front page, written in quasi-Middle English, no less: 
O listen, listen, Ladye gaye, 
A song I'll synge to thee, 
Of the Freshman- Sophomore Color-rushe, 
Alle onne a brave Mondye. 
The Freshmen stood in serried fyghte 
Around a rustye pole 

To guarde they re cherished colors bryghte, 
The frenzied Sophomores' goal. 
Two more stanzas described the sophomore rush at the flagpole, whereupon the 
leader of the "Sophs" met with less than success: 
The Freshmen dragged hym in the dyrte 
With loude and merry e dynne; 
A parte of them retayned hys shyrte, 
The reste of them hys skynne. 
For five-and-fortye minutes tyme 
They fought upon the field, 
Nor coulde the Sophs the flag-pole clymbe, 
Nor woulde the Freshmen yelde. 
Illinois Wesleyan was once rich in non-academic traditions, and The Argus 
devoted a great deal of space to reporting all of the customs and social events. In 
addition to officially sponsored functions, students had their own traditions, as 
reported in the November 12, 1920 Argus. Annual excursions included "class 
tramps to Twin Grove, beef steak frys at Orendorf Springs [and] piking [senior 
cut day] at Mackinaw Dells." The article also alerted freshmen to other some- 
what sacred customs: 

Seniors always sit in the front seats in the middle of Amie Chapel. No 
other class may have those seats. Also, all the rest of the classes wait 
until the seniors float triumphantly down the aisle and then humbly fol- 
low. . . . Always bow to a senior and do not show direspect by contradic- 
tion. ... No one but a senior can use the stone bench on campus, not 
even for purposes of love. Every Wesleyan student is expected to attend 
all functions and games that are for all the students ... it is the custom of 
freshmen here, as in any other well regulated college, to wear green 
caps. You should take great pride in wearing these and wear them vol- 
untarily for they signify that you are beginning to learn the traditions and 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 147 

loyalty to the best college in the world. . . . We require here that every 
freshman learn to give every Wesleyan cheer, and sing every Wesleyan 
song from memory before the year is over. That's our style. 
Each year, the YMCA and YWCA sponsored events for freshmen and other 
new students, but the first big social event of the fall was their jointly sponsored 
Annual Grind. According the the September 30, 1914 issue, students looked for- 
ward to this all-campus "mixer," where males and females "marched though the 
main reception rooms; then out upon the lawn, and back to the main reception 
hall. As the partners were reversed at regular intervals it gave the students 
opportunity of meeting the new students." Afterwards, everyone gathered in the 
dining halls for ice cream and wafers. Then came the singing of "college songs," 
replaced in later years by live bands — just as the conversation-line would yield 
to dancing. And the event was indeed all-campus. The October 8, 1908 Argus 
reported that "almost the entire student body, both literary and law, turned out to 
participate," while the following year's newspaper provided details on how the 
"mill" ground students together: 

After a busy season of handshaking and introductions and greetings the 
mill was started and, although it clogged up once, was finally put in 
working trim. The grind proceeded with its usual levity and sprightli- 
ness of conversation and action till all were pretty well ground up. 
(October 20, 1909) 
Put in simple, mathematical terms: "X equals unknown Girl, Y equals unknown 
Boy, Z equals Grind. X plus Y equals Z" (September 25, 1925). Eventually, for 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 148 

unknown reasons, the Grind disappeared from New Student Week. But as late as 
the 1970s, students were run through the mill long before final exams. 

Other traditions reported by The Argus were not as long-lived. Senior 
Pikers' Day — where seniors cut class or chapel in favor of a picnic or other 
diversion — apparently ground to a halt when the faculty objected to the idea of 
an organized "cut." On May 29, 1910, the senior class took the train to 
Mackinaw Junction and camped on the riverbank, where they fished and pic- 
nicked. Faculty later threatened to force the seniors to take the final exams from 
which they had been exempted. Although The Argus reported that faculty final- 
ly "pardoned" the delinquent seniors, the newspaper added that it "bodes ill for 
the students who shall ever attempt such a thing in the future" (June 14, 1910). 

In addition to Wesleyan's sizzling social scene, the inside pages showcased 
more traditional feature stories on people, places and trends. "What Men Like In 
Girls" advised Wesleyan's female population that 

Tenderness and affection are as much appreciated by men. ... It pleases 
a man to see a woman he loves gentle and considerate in her home life. . 
. . A certain maidenly dignity always pleases a man. Underneath the 
girlish love of jollity and pleasure he delights to know there is a sturdy 
sense of justice that will respect his rights as well as her own. (October 
16, 1916) 
Wesleyan's female population must have heeded this advice quite well, for an 
October 3, 1917 article, "Cupid Drops Bombs on Wesleyan," gave short descrip- 
tions of 21 student and alumni couples who marched to the altar during that 
wartime year. 

Roaring in Bloomington; The 1920s 

By the 1920s, a certain madness was in the air. But the article describing the 
wildest antics featured not students, but faculty members, who, "piling into 
trucks, flivvers, or interurban vehicles" with their "wives, children, footballs, 
volley balls, indoor base balls, the inevitable horse shoes and GRUB," headed 
for a Camp Johnson retreat (October 30, 1923). The Argus was on hand to wit- 
ness one "Faculty Frolic in the Woods," reporting that 

Prof. Wood proved himself an experienced fire builder and soon had a 
gypsy cooking fire around which the ladies toasted their toes and on 
which Prof. Napoli roasted many a popper of sweet, Italian chestnuts. 
The "Boys" meanwhile had started a football game. . . . Miss Laughlin 
gave a demonstration of a dramatic kick while all focused imaginary 
opera glasses at the scene. . . . Doc Piersel was at his best, or, as his wife 
might say, his worst . . . the jug juice or something else made him think 
that he was a wild, whooping Indian and he entertained the crowd in his 
jolliest fashion. Mrs. Ferguson laid herself open to suspicion by gather- 
ing some beautiful hops. . . . Doc Piersel was heard to remark that he 
would be normal by the time he should meet his Monday classes. 
Hurray for our lively profs! 

Chapter? Now Featuring... 149 

Prohibition, of course, had no effect on Illinois Wesleyan, because the cam- 
pus was dry to begin with — and so was the humor of one April Fool's issue 
which, as late as 1931, glorified bootleggers, bathtub gin and gambling. Editor 
Madeleine Anderson Cutright and her staff renamed the paper Our Gus, subti- 
tled "of Capone's Booze Syndicate." The issue was labeled "Not Much Volume 
. . . Try Number Ten — It's Hot," while tease boxes urged, "Read It ... & Weep." 
A bottom headline proclaimed, "Al Capone Buys Wesleyan Cheap! Main Hall 
To Be Renamed 'Capone Hall of Paradise.'" Though every staff member had a 
gangster nickname, Anderson listed the editor-in-chief as "Eve," and her assis- 
tant editor, George Withey ('32), as "Adam." Their editorial, meanwhile, sarcas- 
tically pledged "to make the stern suppression of gaiety and women's rights the 
aims for which we will give the entire remainder of our utterly worthless and use- 
less lives." 

During the 1920s, a great many features appeared on "girls" and male- 
female relationships — not surprising, since gender roles were being questioned 
after women won the right to vote in 1920. The women's movement had come 
to Bloomington. One article, "Modern Out-of-Door Girl Much Superior to Tired 
Bookworm," assured Wesleyan women that taking up outdoor activities would 
not diminish their femininity (March 25, 1926). Another on fashion had 
"Wesleyan Men Worried Over Co-Eds," with the writer complaining, 

Not satisfied with running the men out of the barber shops, the female 

students of Wesleyan University have taken to buying men's clothes at 

such a rate that the poor male will soon feel as much out of place in a 

haberdashery as he used to in the dry goods store. After interviewing 

some of the leading clothing dealers of Bloomington, there can be little 

doubt left in the wondering minds of the male population. (November 4, 


The author of this "trend" story went on to lament, "Time was when the bashful 

girl would enter the clothing store, timidly make her purchase and make as hasty 

an exit as possible. All this is changed. Now she will look the clerk in the eye 

when he asks 'What size?' and manfully proclaim, 'My size.'" The writer also 

added that 

The Wesleyan co-eds have adopted the men's pajamas. . . . Just how far 

the feminine invasion of male rights will go, the haberdashers are 

unwilling to say, but it is generally concluded that in order to distinguish 

the sexes, the male will soon have to go back to the night gown and the 

Elizabethan days of funny collars and short pants. (November 5, 1924) 

Another article on finding "the ideal mate" asked, "Is the present generation 

money mad?" (May 14, 1925). None of the students surveyed said they'd marry 

for money, choosing "character" instead. "Only two granted that appearance 

was a prime essential for an ideal mate. Only one felt that health was of utmost 

importance." And only sixteen Wesleyan students were asked. 

As students turned their interests beyond campus issues, professors were a 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 150 

ready source of feature material. During the 1924-25 school year, editors printed 
parts of Professor Frederick M. Thrasher's final report on Chicago gangsters and 
politicians that, if published in full, would have turned "the whole government of 
Chicago upside down" (November 19, 1924). Thrasher, a professor of econom- 
ics and sociology, also shared his insights on female "flappers," whom, he said, 
believed that "personality is physical," considered "all advice abstract" and 
loved "continual change" (December 10, 1924). Another story told of the 
Wesleyan professor who survived the sinking of the Titanic. Professor Albert F. 
Caldwell told the January 25, 1925 Argus that passengers took their time getting 
to lifeboats because "we knew we were on the greatest and safest ship in the 
world." The Argus neglected to answer one obvious question: how Professor 
Caldwell was saved? 

Students also served as sources for features. Wesleyan students were so 
hungry for information about a world beyond Illinois that The Argus printed a 
story about a Bloomington High School student's 1924 summer experience at the 
famed Breadloaf School of English in Vermont (April 23, 1925). And a feature 
on "Interesting Details On Girls In Korea," by Bessie Lim, a visiting internation- 
al student, must have been of special interest to Wesleyan males still trying to 
figure out American women (November 10, 1927). A long feature in the May 
24, 1927 issue gave an update on the university's first Rhodes Scholar. Reuben 
Borsch ( 4 25), co-captain of the 1924 Green and White basketball team and .400 
batter for the "ball nine," told The Argus "He is now out for the Oxford crew. 
Recent reports have him in heavy training, but he manages to read a little law 
now and then." 

The Argus occasionally went off campus to bring readers outside features. 
During spring 1925 — just four years before the stock market crashed — The 
Argus featured a six-part series reprinted from Open Road Magazine on "Making 
Good In Business." 


Curiously, the feature almost disappeared from The Argus during the 1930s. 
Space was taken up primarily by announcements of campus concerts and 
recitals, and an "Official [University] Announcements" section. Only in the 
1931-32 school year were features a part of the daily reader's diet. 

Following a construction boom — with Memorial Gym, Buck Library and 
Presser Hall all built in the 1920s — Argus editors took inventory of campus 
buildings in a series that told the history of each. 

The first article called Wilder Field "the heart of the school" (September 29, 
1931) and informed students that the field once faced north and south, and that 
the original grandstand burned down in 1904. A feature on Kemp Hall was full 
of similar trivia. A women's dormitory since 1912, Kemp housed all of the 
freshman girls and others who wanted to experience its "student house govern- 
ment" and "many traditional affairs." Other students lived in area homes and in 
a nearby boarding house. Of Kemp, staff writer Dorothy Mae Hughes Kalvelage 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 151 

('36) wrote, 

Until four years ago there were no sorority houses permitted on the 
Wesleyan campus, and any out-of-town girl, whether freshman or senior, 
was privileged to live in the hall. . . . The lawn of Kemp is the customary 
starting point for the procession of pajama-clad fraternity men on their 
march to the square on the night of the Pajama Parade during 
Homecoming. . . . Every year the swing on the wide porch and the com- 
fortable seats in the living room do their bit to encourage youthful love 
affairs. (October 13, 1931) 
While the Depression appears not to have affected students the way it did 
the rest of the nation, some sought to see what life was like outside the "Wesleyan 
Bubble." A front-page feature told how staff writer John Paul Jones ('34) 

sallied forth in search of first hand information in regards to hobo life to 

find out exactly how and where they live, whether or not deserving 

unemployed men were among their numbers, and just how easy it was 

for them to beg on the streets. (November 24, 1931) 

Wearing ragged clothes, The Argus reporter went west on Market St. to the 

Illinois Traction tracks until he came to a "hobo jungle" in the deserted mine 

buildings opposite the C. and A. depot. There he was 

accepted as one of the crowd ... of about thirty negroes and fifteen 
whites . . . segregated, the whites being in a small building and the 
negroes quartered in a large machinery room. Five fires served as a 
cooking place for meals, a means of heating water for washing clothes, 
and, as darkness approached, a light. 
The hobos shared their secrets of finding food, telling Jones to go to "Shelper's 
Mission on South Main, to certain parish houses, a small grocery store near the 
jungle, and to certain cafes." For rest, he was sent to the Salvation Army to 
"'flop' on a bed with no mattress and cover. Since it was necessary that two per- 
sons occupy the same bed," however, Jones decided to spend the night on the 
streets instead. Begging, he found that out of seven people he approached, only 
two turned him down. The rest were generous, including Professor Waddell, 
who did not recognize his student. "As easy as it [the hobo life] may appear on 
the surface," Jones wrote, "I would not advise it for a steady diet." 

A year later, The Argus published another account of a fellow who took time 
off from Wesleyan to venture into the real world. From 1923-25, Eldred Sleeter 
('34) was a Wesleyan student working at the local YMCA, where several circus 
acts practiced in the gymnasium each winter. Sleeter said "it was here where I 
spent many of my idle hours in practice as a pastime, in an attempt to learn the 
tricks that the performers did." He learned "the 'flying return' act or the 'flying 
trapese' act," which catapulted him into "The Big Top" working for the Ringling 
Bros, and Barnum and Bailey Circus (December 8, 1932). 

Apart from those two exceptions, Argus features stayed closer to home and 
dealt with topics that spanned the decades: rush procedures, studenthood and 
holiday traditions. Until the war years, routine announcements would dominate 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 152 

The Argus pages. 

The 1940s: If it ain't got that swing . . . 

Not everything in the 1940s was war-related. Male-female relationships 
were still on students' minds, if the amount of space they received in The Argus 
was any indication. One Reader's Digest-style compatibility test tells much 
about the values of the time. "Girl's Merits" included the ability to carry on an 
interesting conversation, a good sense of humor, high ideals and active church 
membership, with merits given if she "wears her clothes well and dresses to fit 
her figure and personality, praises her boyfriend in public, has spunk," is a good 
cook and "writes interesting and jolly" letters. "Boy's Merits" were awarded if 
he "remembers birthdays, frequently compliments girl friend on her looks, 
clothes, cooking," is healthy and athletic, likes sports, "is fond of children, is a 
careful automobile driver, a steady worker or good student, [and] attends church 
or encourages girl friend if she is an active member." The article listed 
"Demerits" as well, if the woman 

wears bright red nail polish, is very suspicious and jealous, flirts too 
much with other men at parties or in restaurants, talks too much about 
her other boy friends or the shows and places to which they have taken 
her, uses profanity, smokes or gambles, tells risque or vulgar stories, cor- 
rects boy friend's speech or actions in public, [is] apologetic regarding 
her parents [and] seems ashamed to have boy meet them. 
For the "boys," demerits were given if he "criticizes his girl friend in public, tries 
to flirt with other girls while on a date, fails to bathe or change socks often 
enough, uses profanity or tells vulgar stories, is very suspicious and jealous, uses 
alcohol, tells lies" (October 15, 1941). 

A feature on "Schoolgirls Should Know!" (February 25, 1945) reprinted 
excerpts from an article published in a popular magazine by R.M. Hutchins, 
president of the University of Chicago. Though Hutchins dismissed the myths of 
women being more artistic than men and argued for "the same training" to be 
given to "boys and girls," he also added that "The importance of marriage and 
housekeeping cannot be over-emphasized. They are so vital that mothers should 
assume the responsibility of giving the necessary information to their daughters. 
These facts cannot be left to the academic programs. . . ." Aside from the male- 
female and war-related features, only brief speaker profiles occurred with any 
regularity. A feature on Frances Hilden (the former IWU student who rose to 
become "the goddess of struggling dramatists" on Broadway) told how the for- 
mer speech and drama major became a top theatrical agent (February 18, 1942). 
Another story featured a psychologist's rules for maintaining civilian morale 
(January 21, 1942). 

As with the 1930s, announcements of campus activities dominated the inside 
pages. One issue, for example, featured these announcements: the "Masquers" 
(drama club) was looking for new members; new records have been ordered for 
the "Dimmie Dances" at the Student Union; and Sigma Kappa pledges were sur- 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 153 

prised with a "jail house" informal (December 2, 1941). Another announced 
new Sigma Alpha initiates, the Sigma Alpha Iota dance, a Sigma Chi house 
party, a Phi Gamma Delta reception, a Kappa Delta dance, a Beta Kappa house 
party, a Phi Mu Alpha road trip, a Delta Omicron open house and the selection of 
the "Sweetheart of Sigma Chi" (October 10, 1941). In fact, The Argus was so 
full of meeting and activity announcements that it prompted one columnist to 

Meetings, meetings, meetings! Betty Coed is up to her neck with clubs 
and other campus activities. . . . She is carrying only 14 hours, but she 
still can't find time to drop in at the Hut and taste those delicious pies. 
Being practical, aren't there any clubs, committees or organizations that 
could be eliminated? The war angle has almost been worn out. . . . 
(January 31, 1945) 
Rest and relaxation features also appeared, such as the half-page account of 
Dr. and Mrs. Mortimer's Florida vacation in 1945, or the photo of another facul- 
ty wife hefting a 22-pound muskie she caught on their fishing vacation. The 
December 20, 1944 issue feaured a personal experience article, "Miss Elizabeth 
Hill Meets Hindu Leader Ghandi," wherein a McLean County nurse told of her 
experiences in India. Another feature saw an Argus reporter wander up "the 
crushed rock paths leading to the green and white temporary housing units [for- 
merly the veterans' barracks] north of the tennis courts." Six faculty families 
had moved into the four-room units, using coal stoves for heat and still waiting 
for cooking stoves to arrive (December 18, 1946). 

But the January 24, 1945 issue had to reach back to 1912 to tell the story of 
550-pound Leonard "Baby" Bliss, the largest Bloomingtonian and a nationally- 
known bicyclist, according to The Argus. The newspaper reported that as a 
Wesleyan student in 1887, Bliss weighed a mere 350 pounds. When the campus 
newspaper first reported his death in a January 11, 1912 issue, the reporter noted 
that "the Bloomington giant" once rode his bicycle in all the principal cities of 
Europe. When he died, "although the thermometer was ten degrees below zero, 
between 2500 and 3,000 people went to take a last look at the remains as he lay 
in state." 

Saddle Shoes and Beanies: Life in the Fifties 

Features coverage in the wake of the war continued to depict a jolly 
"Wesleyland." A national feature in the September 19, 1951 edition explained 
how males, with a little thread, were able to needle females. "Man Seeks 
Retribution on Woman By Designing Her Latest Fashions" observed that "The 
Voodoo Doll has been replaced by an old broom stick and the male designers 
take fiendish glee in twisting cloth about it in odd fashions ... the male has had 
but one intent — to ruin the female species." The article traced fashion trends 
since the turn of the century, noting that "in grandma's day" women wore silver 
lame turbans and sequined dresses. "Mama," on the other hand, wore even ugli- 
er flapper dresses and washtub hats which gave way to wartime fashion: "Up 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 154 

Manhunt: looking for a best Beau (1954). 

with the skirts! Down 
with the necklines! War 
days were days of con- 
servation and the female 
couldn't even hide her 
modesty. Then came 
peace and rehabilitation. 
Zoom! Up went the 
necklines and down 
came the skirts." 
The fashion-conscious 
Argus asked women to 
choose Wesleyan's 
"Beau Brummell" 
(October 27, 1954). The 
character Beau 
Brummell appeared in a 
1954 movie of the same 
name, starring Stewart 
Granger, who portrayed 
the "elegant scoundrel, 
spendthrift, and leader of fashions" opposite Elizabeth Taylor. Although the 
Student Union and Esquire Theater, co-sponsors of the event, did "not offer 
IWU's Beau Brummell such a prize as Elizabeth Taylor" the winner became a 
member of the American Society of Beau Brummells, which glorified "better 
grooming and better manners" and whose "No. 1 honorary member" was 
President Dwight D. Eisenhower. After a tough fight, Bob Lewis ('53) joined 
Ike in the society. 

But even Wesleyan's dashing Beau Brummell had to lower himself to wear- 
ing a green beanie as a freshman. The tradition of beanie wearing was at least as 
old as Homecoming, which began in 1917. All "green" freshmen were required 
to wear the dubious mark of distinction until either Wesleyan won its 
Homecoming football game or, if the Titans lost, until Thanksgiving break. Staff 
writer Bob Byler's ('52) November 2, 1950 feature, "Ready to Ditch the 
Beanies?" described the knowledge freshmen had to acquire — mastering IWU's 
long lines, sleepless nights and student union coffee — to make them worthy of 
"throwing their toppers in the Homecoming bonfire." 

Like the fate of many other long-standing traditions, the idea of beanies 
began to wear thin. A November 17, 1954 article expressed an unnamed fresh- 
man's desire to throw the beanie into the fire before putting it on his or her head: 
Reports varied on who was supposed to wear the beanies, and for how 
long. One source said that only pedges had to contend with them. . . . 
Another source informed me that they were to be worn until 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 155 

Homecoming, but still another source set the deadline at Thanksgiving. 
Finally, someone told me that no one had to wear them. This was begin- 
ning to sound like a report on the recent election results. 
By 1967, the entire campus jumped on the burn-the-beanie bandwagon. A 
September 22, 1967 Gadfly column declared that "Upperclassmen suppress 
amused snickers, smile knowingly and assert that 'no one ever wears a beanie.' 
It becomes unbearably clear that the student body, not the admisistrators, know 
what no one does — and no one wears a beanie." Two years later, the tradition 
died when a Senate-developed Student Committee About Beanies (SCAB) voted 
to make beanie sales optional under the jurisdiction of the Student Senate. 

Less lively campus history features also appeared during the 1950s, with the 
April 23, 1952 "Spring Festival" Argus — an issue designed for visiting high 
school students — chron- 
icling the history of the 
art department. The 
article revealed that 
Wesleyan's Wilson 
College of Arts and its 
famed "Department of 
Crayon" were actually 
located in downtown 
Bloomington and did 
not become officially 
affiliated with the uni- 
versity until 1890. In 
1929, the arts college 
moved to Presser Hall. 
Since then, "the future 
Rembrandts and 

Picassos of the arts 
school create the art 
work which has earned 
for Wesleyan the reputa- 
tion of having one of the 
finest schools of art in 
the middle west." 

IWU President Lloyd Bertholf donned a beanie in the 
freshman tradition (1958). 

With the paper advertising post-graduate Fulbright Scholarship awards for 
international study, and with 15 international students on campus during the 
1957-58 school year, it's no surprise that The Argus ran a fall feature series on 
the latest eight arrivals from Korea, Japan, China, Korea, Malaya and Nigeria. 
One such feature reported that Kathy Chung, a ballet dancing enthusiast from 
Seoul, South Korea, majored in home economics. (The university dropped home 
economics from its curriculum in 1971.) 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 156 

The 1960s: Huts, Housemothers, Drugs and Playboy 

The features of the 1960s reflected a nationwide transition that turned 
America from a state of post-war bliss to a state of anxiety. In the first five or 
six years of the decade, the newspaper continued to print features on students, 
cultures and traditions outside the continental United States. An article on Amy 
Nishijima Yoshihara ('65) described her home in Hawaii and her anticipation at 
seeing the first snow. Likewise, the October 8, 1965 issue featured similar sto- 
ries on students from Panama and India, and in February 1966 another series on 
countries appeared. Curiously, along with profiles on Sweden and Thailand, one 
on Vietnam also appeared — just four months before American bombers attacked 
Hanoi, the North Vietnamese capital, on June 29, 1966. 

Short term travel features also provided The Argus with international subject 
matter. Richard Moody's (December 9, 1966) article, "See the world during 
short term," told how Wesleyan's 4-1-4 academic calendar (adopted in the 1964- 
65 academic year) gave students the time to take month-long political science 
courses in Norway, Sweden and Denmark, as well as a foreign language course 
in Mexico. Professors also planned a political science seminar in Egypt, but it 
"was discontinued due to small class enrollment and to political unrest in the 
Middle East at the present time." 

As with former decades, The Argus of the early 1960s was drawn to histories 
of campus buildings. Sketches of Duration Hall, Kemp Hall and Buck Memorial 
Library gave students a chance to see their campus in a historical context. The 
April 6, 1962 issue profiled "the Hut," one of Wesleyan's lesser known build- 
ings. Located behind Kemp Hall, the Hut was first a carriage house and then a 
garage before the school bought both buildings in 1911. Although, as a garage, 
it housed one the first automobiles in the Bloomington area, as a campus hang- 
out the Hut really revved up. In the early years it was a general meeting place 
mostly used for YM and YWCA parties. Later on, it became a snack bar and 
then Spotlight Alley — the drama building in the 1960s, with an intimate theater 
that held 99 people. But in this feature, staff writer David Slick ('64) reported 
that "The need for a new drama building is very apparent. Besides the small size 
and inadequate facilities of the present drama building, it also is a potential fire 
trap." The administration eventually acknowledged the Slick plea. By 1964, 
Spotlight Alley had given way to the IWU bookstore, which had moved from 
Holmes Hall. 

Students in the 1990s who think of protest and tie-dye when they envision 
the 1960s might find it surprising that a saccharine feature on moms appeared in 
the November 18, 1966 Argus. "New Housemothers find rewards" praised the 
moms-away-from-mom for being "always the first to admire the diamond or 
share the heartbreak. . . . She's an awesome authority to the freshman, a good 
friend to the senior, a fond memory to the alum." 

But moms and apple pie were nowhere to be found on January 13, 1967. 
One article opened with an invitation: "Planning a trip? For a little variety, 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 157 

don't see your travel agent. Instead, try LSD for a trip you won't forget." More 
than a few housemothers must have cringed as "LSD beckons travelers to dan- 
ger" went on to describe the hallucinogenic effects of lysergic acid diethylamide. 
"As a word of caution, some people should never take LSD," the article stated. 
"Such people include those with any heart trouble or liver malfunction, epileptics 
and people with unstable personalities." Students were apparently eager to learn 
about drugs, because the Argus soon reported a talk by Dr. Keith Ditman, direc- 
tor of the Alcoholism Research Department of the University of California, Los 
Angeles, on "LSD: Potentials and Problems." Ditman admitted to taking a 
number of "trips" and described them in detail, while warning that "value sys- 
tems can be altered, anxiety and depression can set in, and in extreme cases, a 
person may become a borderline psychotic" (February 24, 1967). 

A Gallup Drug Poll, "administered nationally by Dr. George Gallup" and 
distributed to IWU students, found that 5 percent of the student body had tried 
either marijuana or LSD, which ranked Wesleyan near the national average — 
though the author of the article added that "it depends on whom you ask" 
(January 19, 1968). One student interviewed took exception with the famed 
pollster's methods, charging, "This poll borders on insanity. This poll casts pot 
and acid in the same class. There is a vast difference between the two drugs. I 
am looking forward to the next poll written by someone familiar with drugs." 

The article included remarks from dean of students Anne Meierhoffer, who 
commented on an incident from the previous year where 14 students were sus- 
pended. "We had a problem with experimentation," she said. "We were deeply 
concerned about it. The students were suspended for a week to be at home talk- 
ing this situation over with their parents. Then the parents returned to campus 
and we talked over how the students could again fit into the community situa- 
tion." All students returned, the article added, identifying the drug dealer as "a 
student at another university." 

Other articles reflected an interest in alternate religions and meditation — 
also popular with the counter-culture. A March 3, 1967 feature described Ouija 
boards, indicating that at IWU "one can find many people who take part and sin- 
cerely believe in such extraordinary occurrences." The students contacted a 
40,000-year-old spirit who predicted the Titans would not go to Kansas City that 
year for the national basketball tournament" (they didn't). And for unbelievers, 
the article added that a table-lifting display of levitation by three "girls" was wit- 
nessed by "this reporter, a photographer, and Chaplain William L. White": 

By verbal command, the table assumed many different inclinations, and 
by means of code . . . answered such questions as, "How many people 
are in the room?" The table's spirit did not know who President 
Kennedy was; so it is evident that he was not omniscient." 

Bigger predictions by a parapsychologist made the front page on September 
29, 1967, perhaps because he told IWU students that "Richard Nixon will win 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 158 

the 1968 Presidential election, Mrs. Jacqueline Kennedy will serve as 'ambas- 
sador of good will' under this administration, Senator Robert Kennedy will never 
become president . . . however, Senator Ted Kennedy, while in his late fifties, 
will be President." He also predicted that Red China and Russia would become 
Christian by the year 2000, and that Los Angeles would sink into the Pacific by 
1982. When questioned by Argus reporters about his credentials, the parapsy- 
chologist said, "I was a business major. There are no degrees in parapsychology." 

The only mention of Hugh Hefner's "s-e-x" magazine in the 1950s came from 
a columnist who attacked not only the "dirty" pictures in Playboy, but the writers 
who "were constantly preoccupied with depravity in some form or other." He 
added, "To me it is as appalling as if the Holy Bible came out in pocket book form 
with a cover depicting King David watching Bathsheba bathe" (January 11, 1956). 

By 1966, The Gadfly column headline was exclaiming, "Hefner's gospel 
places reader in Disneyland," while a preview announcing a symposium on "The 
Playboy Philosophy" placed Hefner in the same category as Socrates, Aristotle, 
Descartes and Russell (March 6, 1966). What a difference a decade makes. 

The Energy (and Features) Crisis 

Argus features were as scarce as gas and oil during the 1970s, especially 
since the paper's masthead did not list a features editor between 1970 and 1977. 
What few features that did appear continued to focus on faculty, international 
students, Greek life, short term travel and campus history. 

Staff writer Dave Cook's ('71) January 8, 1971 article, "Brandtville rates 
'Truck Stop Hall of Fame," told how one piece of campus history — Bob 
Johnson's Brandtville Restaurant — was located off campus at the intersection of 
Route 66 and Route 150. Adorned with neon lights and a giant chicken, the all- 
night restaurant catered to hungry truckers, late night bowlers, post-prom 
teenagers, state troopers and "hippie-weirdo college freaks." As Cook put it, 
"The college gourmet, in his eternal search for the perfect hamburger, can find at 
Brandtville an excellent reason for continuing his search." While Brandtville 
was one of Bloomington's few all-night restaurants (its busiest hours were 
between midnight and 3 a.m.), it still attracted primarily male patrons, "partially 
because most women would rather not go there unescorted, and partially because 
women's stomachs may not be quite as strong." 

One woman who probably was too cultured for regular late-night trips to 
Brandtville was Wesley an's own queen of the 1973 College Football All-Star 
game. It's clear from Dave Watkins' ('75) description of All-Star queen Pam 
Metcalf Smith ('74) that she was of higher caliber than the truck-stop variety, 
though her friends played just as rough: 

If you happen to pass on campus a very cute five-foot, three-inch 
brunette with unforgettable deep brown eyes and a contagiously confi- 
dent air about her — treat her with your utmost respect or last year's 
College All-Americans Bert Jones and Otis Armstrong will break your 
face. (September 14, 1973) 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 159 

The Playboy-style interview outlined Metcalf Smith's road to royalty, from the 
moment she filled out the application to the moment she was selected over 10 
finalists from colleges in Illinois, Michigan, Indiana and Iowa. The Chicago 
Jaycees, sponsors of the contest, shuttled her around to a number of personal 
appearances with actor Don Knotts, coach John McKay and WGN-Radio and 
TV personalities Wally Phillips and Ray Rayner. 

Other features dealt with campus concerns. Staff writer Debbie Burt 
Frazier's ('75) January 25, 1974 article, "Students lives change little; lack of 
energy affects few," reported that students "were not doing much of anything" to 
curb President Richard Nixon's proclaimed energy crisis. One student said she 
refused to do anything until Nixon, himself, did: "As long as he can fly back 
and forth to one of his six homes every weekend with just him and Pat aboard, I 
figure I can burn all the lights in my room too!" Another student responded that 
he was conserving energy by reducing his speed to 50 miles per hour in a 25- 
mile zone. A sidebar on the university's energy conservation efforts revealed 
that the "shortage wouldn't bring shivers," since the physical plant had its own 
fuel reserves. Despite President Robert Eckley's orders to lower university ther- 
mostats to 68 degrees, an Argus investigation revealed that most residence halls 
remained five to 10 degrees above the limit. 

Features editor Letita Keller's ('79) two-part series on "Rape: Guide to 
Myths and Realities" (December 2, 1977) reported that "Bloomington-Normal 
has proportionately the same number of rapes as Chicago. And even though 
IWU security has had no reports over the past couple of years, rape does happen 
at Illinois Wesley an University." The article went on to explain the motives 
behind rape, as well as rape prevention procedures. 

Up Close and Personal: The Age of Information 

By 1980, features bounced back to prominence in The Argus, largely thanks 
to national stories obtained through College Press Service (CPS) and United 
Press International (UPI) on such topics as student loans, health, the job market, 
drugs, college suicides, sexual harassment and rape awareness. Locally, list and 
trend stories were popular, with Argus writers offering their own personal slants 
on conscientious objection, stress reduction, diet tips, dorm door graffiti, a "Titan 
Purity Test" (March 2, 1990) and the somewhat anarchic "Should I stay or 
Should I go: The 'How-To' in breaking those [dormitory] visitation hours" 
(February 16, 1990). 

In 1983, the features pages suddenly overflowed with movie and music 
reviews, beginning with student reactions to "Reds," a journalistic account of the 
Bolshevik Revolution, Henry Fonda's "On Golden Pond" and U2's release of 
"The Unforgettable Fire." Writers also previewed a large number of plays, per- 
formances and exhibitions in the drama, music and art schools, with features edi- 
tor David Barrett devoting an entire center spread to art exhibitions at ISU and 
IWU (January 25, 1991), and writer Tim Vasil ('89) creating a series of "camp" 
record reviews that poked fun of the genre in the process. His February 10, 1989 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 160 

review of junior-high heart-throb Tiffany was signed "by Tim Vasil and his little 
sister, Buffy" [who popped gum and critiqued the record in pre-teenybopper 
slang], while in other reviews Vasil confessed that rock-star "Madonna makes 
me wanna do push-ups" and explained how his "old buddy" Barry Gibb was 
depressed by a new Fine Young Cannibals album (made, he argued, by Bee-Gees 
wannabes). Glibness went beyond Gibbness during the late 1980s, with other 
playful offerings including a tongue-in-cheek horoscope column offering such 
entries as, "CANCER: You will become sleepy. You will become very, very 
sleepy," or "CAPRICORN: Cloudy but warmer with a chance of precipitation" 
(April 14, 1989). 

But a lot of serious information filled the pages of The Argus as well. If the 
range of articles is any indication, students from the 1980s and 1990s were as 
fascinated by information as the nation that had fallen in love with the Trivial 
Pursuit question-and- answer board game. Features appeared on such varied top- 
ics as the 20th anniversary of Sesame Street, a "Real-life Indiana Jones" explorer 
(October 11, 1991), and behind-the-scenes looks at Greek peer counseling and 
the IWU Urban Studies Program in Chicago. One article even featured the naked 
mole rat, which writer Jorie Moran ('91), now a zookeeper at Brookfield Zoo in 
Chicago, called "the animal rage of the '90s" (December 7, 1990). 

Profiles in these decades often focused on student and faculty accomplish- 
ments and experiences, especially as they expanded beyond the world of Illinois 
Wesleyan. One feature profiled student Lisa Thomas ('90), who served an 
internship at Late Night with David Letterman, and had a long list of names to 
drop. Another focused on full-time student and part-time movie actor Jeff Jarot 
('93), who appeared as an extra in Home Alone; still another featured freshman 
Tracy Fritchley ('92), whose stitchery sent her to the National 4-H Congress as 
the Illinois representative. Drama professor John Ficca was spotlighted for his 
play, Friday in America, which debuted on campus (March 1, 1991), while 
Darlene Ostrowski won first place in feature writing from the Illinois College 
Press Association for a story she did on Professor George Kieh Jr., "Grueling 
Prison Didn't Break Kieh's Spirit" (January 25, 1991). Kieh, a Liberian exile 
who became the first director of the International Studies Program at IWU, told 
The Argus about his time "in solitary confinement, in a filthy cell barely large 
enough to turn around in." Rain and mosquitoes poured in through an open win- 
dow, "forcing the prisoners to slosh through ankle-deep water." Kieh, an expert 
on his native Liberia, was invited by former President Jimmy Carter to a confer- 
ence on international affairs. 

Folklore also found its way into the newspaper, with a number of Halloween 
articles reporting all of Wesleyan's hallowed halls and haunted houses. One 
ghost story concerning the Phi Mu Alpha fraternity house claimed that Dr. 
Manmen, an 1890s dentist, allegedly killed his daughter (accidentally) while per- 
forming an abortion on her. He supposedly left her in the office for a week, and 
then dismembered her and buried her remains in the basement. However, some 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 161 

careful digging by Chris McHugh ('82) and Rich Sands ('83) in the October 30, 
1981 Argus revealed that the ghost story had become skewed over time: 

As for the Phi Mu House, Manmen was a respectable Bloomington doc- 
tor (not a dentist) and did no such thing to anyone, let alone his daughter. 
He built the house in 1891 and lived there until his death in 1937 and we 
think it's time we stopped dragging his good name through the mud. 
Joe Relaford and Gail Gaboda's ('88) October 30, 1987 feature, "Wealth of 
wraiths inhabit Wesleyan," told how Kemp Hall, which was built by a young 
doctor around the turn of the century, contained the ghost of the doctor's wife, 
Maria DeMange. Mrs. DeMange died suddenly after a year of living in the 
house, and "several times since, people have seen the wife's image in the hall. 
Other DeManges are also rumored to haunt the International House." The article 
also reported that a ghost named "Frances" haunted Adams Hall (the Acacia 

In recent years, ghosts have taken quite a liking to Wesleyan, according to 
Betsy Phillips ('97), whose October 29, 1993 feature, "Halloween and Haunted 
Halls," reported ghost sightings in McPherson Theater, the Kappa Kappa 
Gamma House, the Art Building, Buck Library, Presser Hall, the Sigma Kappa 
House, Blackstock Hall, Pfieffer Hall and Ferguson Hall. In Ferguson, for exam- 
ple, one student saw a book fly off her desk and, "on the other side of her, she 
saw what she thought was an indentation of someone sitting next to her." 

Features editors in these decades used the center spread to provide campus, 
state, and national election information, as well as in-depth reports on African- 
Americans at IWU, international studies and Wesleyan's School of Fine Arts. 
Center spreads also reached into the community with articles like "Crisis in the 
heartland" (April 25, 1986), which described Central Illinois farmers' fights to 
keep their farms operating despite huge debts "accumulated during the 1970s 
when inflation was high." The center spread featured articles on the farm crisis 
itself, the financial woes of IWU students from farm families, declining member- 
ship in the Future Farmers of America and a poignant account of a local farmer's 
liquidation auction. "They hauled away all my machinery and the rest of my 
assets. My wife works, so we kept food on the table," the farmer told staff writer 

The 1990s continued to provide a diverse range of entertainment reviews, 
music, art and drama previews, and features. Lorian Hemingway, the grand- 
daughter of Nobel Prize-winning author Ernest Hemingway, revealed to features 
editor Brian Hiatt that it "annoyed her terrifically" to carry the Hemingway 
name. Hemingway said that her own "sensuous, more flavorful" novel, Walking 
into the River directly contrasted her grandfather's "simple, direct style of writ- 
ing" (November 6, 1992). 

If there has been any trend in the 1990s, it has been the emergence of intro- 
spective or highly personal features. One such story, "Inflated chests not big 
with female collegians" (December 8, 1989) explored the option of breast reduc- 
tion for "well-endowed" women. "Most people do not realize that large breasts 

Chapter 7 Now Featuring... 162 

are uncomfortable and that even running down the stairs can be painful," staff 
writer Kristina Geister ('90) wrote. Likewise, a March 19, 1993 feature on eat- 
ing disorders began, 

She arrived home around 1 1 p.m. Shortly after, her body was bent and 
her head was in the toilet. She tried desperately to throw up the food she 
had eaten while out with her friends. It didn't work. She decided to take 
a laxative and go to bed. As she lay staring at the ceiling, her mind was 
clouded with thoughts of death, which appeared over and over again until 
she struggled for the phone to call a friend. . . . The story may sound 
bizarre to some of you, but . . . the girl mentioned above is me. I have 
dealt with this nightmare, bulimia, for about three years. 
The rest of the feature not only outlined staff writer Kara Cheeseman's ('95) bat- 
tle with bulimia and road to recovery, but it also offered advice from medical 
experts on eating disorder symptoms and ways to get help. "Eating disorders are 
much like alcoholism — they stay in with people throughout their lives," 
Cheeseman wrote. "In my experience, the past year and a half I have spent 
fighting this disorder has been the most difficult time of my life. No matter how 
hard it was, I would never go back." 

Chapter 8 Argus Advertising— A Sign of the Times 163 


Argus Advertising — A Sign of the Times 

A Message from 
The Argus .... 

Advertisements have helped finance almost every Argus, with the exception 
of the four-page April 25, 1945 issue featuring the "Dumbarton Oaks [United 
Nations Proposal] Documents" — and the occasional early-semester issue which 
went to press before the ad staff could get organized (as on August 6, 1952). 

In its first few decades without university funding, The Argus was supported 
mainly through advertising, supplemented by $1 annual subscriptions from 
Wesleyan's students. A century later, advertisements still cover part of the oper- 
ating costs, fund new computer equipment and treat the staff to weekly produc- 
tion-night pizzas and dinner in Chicago at the annual Illinois College Press 
Association convention. 

For the 1993-94 school year, remaining operating costs are covered by 

money allocated by Student 
Senate based on the previous 
year's Argus budget. In 1992- 
93, advertising revenue 
accounted for approximately 
$12,000 of the paper's 
$35,000 budget. Desktop 
publishing will allow the 
newspaper to petition for less 
money from Senate's 
Financial Advisory Board 
(FAB) in future years. 

There never has been a 
clear formula or permanent 
advertising policy for The 
Argus, nor has there been any 
by-law or constitutional 
Senate provision detailing 
what percent of The Argus 
budget must come from 
advertising. Student Council 
was founded in 1915 and 

The revenue enjoyed from the advertising columns of The 
Argus contributes greatly toward the production of a better 
newspaper. Without advertising, many features of your 
favorite reading might possibly be lost. The advertising is 
essential for maintaining our standards. 

It is only natural for an advertiser to feel he is 
getting value received, when persons mention that 
they saw his ad in The Argus. Buying from Argus 
advertisers, and mentioning The Argus, are con- 
vincing to the advertiser. He can better appreciate 
the large community of college people at his door- 

You are lending a hand, when you .... 

s a y . . . . 

'I Saw it in The Argus' 

Chapter 8 Argus Advertising— A Sign of the Times 1 64 




Sewing Machines we manufacture ar-l their 
prices befDre you purchase any o'.her. 

The new home sowing machiive Co. 


: t Union Square, N. Y. Chicago, 111. Ft. Louis, Mo. 

Tex. San Francisco, Cal. Atlanta, Ga. 




THIS season the styles and pat 
terns of fabrics, in men's clothe- 
are unusually striking; more bright 
colors, more smart patterns and 
weaves; a stock of men's clothes 
like ours looks almost giddy. 

—we'll show you the new fine goods for winter from Hart, 
Schaffner & Marx, made in their perfect way, of all-wool 
fabrics, in the richest and most attractive patterns; not too 
lively, nor too quiet; just right. 

—this store is the home of Hart, Schaffner & 
Marx Clothes, Last Long Sox, Stetson Hats, 
Manhattan Shirts, Walkover, Florsheim Shoes 

—we carry • 

complete line 
of Pennants. 

COUNT to all STU- 

Copyright 1908 by Hart Schart'ner & Mar 

Chapter 8 Argus Advertising— A Sign of the Times 165 

replaced in 1933 by Student Union, which gave itself constitutional power over 
campus media. A student referendum in spring 1957 gave the Union a new con- 
stitution and a new name, and in 1959-60, Student Senate began administering 
the funds to finance student programs. Prior to that, according to an Argus edito- 
rial which apologized for a semester of four-page issues, the university provided 
two-thirds of the total cost of The Argus. Advertising had to make up the differ- 
ence (October 3, 1951). 

In lieu of a formal advertising policy, editors and business managers have 
traditionally built their own revenue goals into the budget. Often times, the gap 
between an editor's idea of how many ads could or should go into every issue 
differed sharply from the business manager's. One editor from the 1960s 
recalled that she mixed with her business manager about as well as oil and water. 
"We rarely got along," she said. "He ran his section separately from the rest of 
the staff and always challenged me. I usually won." 

Other editors found the opposite to be true. Editor Ruth Nordin Zervas con- 
sidered business manager Bob Evans ('62) to be the most important person on 
her 1961-62 staff because "he was a real good hustler for advertising. He was so 
good I never had to worry about it." 

Ads in the first three decades were ruled or boxed in sections to take up page 
after page, yearbook style. They hawked everything from Hoagland's Oil of 
Gladness Mop to Kirkpatrick's Whole Room of Furniture, only $11.85, with 
many advertisers offering special rates to students. The January 11, 1911 Argus 
featured this simple ad: "The Illinois Hotel is where the Wesleyan Banquets are 

Illinois Wesleyan University 

A GROWING SCHOOL for Earnest Young Men and Women. 

A school with SIXTY YEARS of splendid history and new 

STRONG COURSES in Academy, College, Home Economics, 
Music, Art, Law. 

Located in a BEAUTIFUL CITY. 

GOOD MORAL and RELIGIOUS surroundings. 


Excellent opportunities for SELF-SUPPORT. 

A school noted for Oratory, Debate, Scholarship, Athletics. 

The FINEST DORMITORY for girls in all the country. 

For catalogue a7id information, address: — 

Chapter 8 Argus Advertising— A Sign of the Times 166 



Young Men 

Assist You: 
Richard Walters 
Rudy Seiger 
Charles O'Malley 
Forrest Green 
Harry Pisell 
Tom Lancaster 

All Gifts 


be Packed 


Holiday Boxes 


Mailed or 




The Boy Friend Problem 

Mufflers $2 to $5 


Silk Robes $10 to $25 APPRECIATE 

Set with Slippers to Match _ is a fine white English Broad . 

$18.50 cloth with a smart collar attached 

— every man likes them 

$2.50 to $5.00 

Deer-hide Gloves $4.50 

A Variety of Gifts Packed 

in Sets, 25c to $1.50 


Fine. Knits from Vienna at $2 — 
gayly ' patterned silks and' broad 
vivid stripes, $1 "to $2.50 — ours is 
the largest showing in town. 


Silks in distinctive colors $6.00 

Pongees in Black Trims §3.50 

Fancy Broadcloths— $2.00 to $5.00 


Full fashioned pattern i silks at 
$1 — fine wool and silk and wool 
at $1 and $1.50 — a large variety 
of fancy hose at 50c. 



Chapter 8 Argus Advertising— A Sign of the Times 167 

Held," and an ad for Zweng Sporting 
Goods Co. advertised "College and 
Athletic Goods," but pictured a roadster 
and motorcycle. Students needed to trav- 
el to get their books — all the way to West 
Side Square where W.B. Read & Co. 
offered "Wesleyan Textbooks, only com- 
plete stock in city." Read's also was the 
"Official Outfitter for All Wesleyan 

In the 1920s, ads covered a wide 
range of services and products. Public 
utilities like the Illinois Power & Light 
Service and Illinois Central [Rail] 
System frequently placed large ads, as 
did the national firm General Electric. 
Locally, the business card ads from tai- 
lors, linoleum dealers and other trades- 
men gave way to larger ads that seemed 
better tailored to student needs. 

W.B. Read & Co. advertised 
"Regulation I.W.U. Gymnasium Suits for 
Men and Women" (November 17, 1923), 
and Bloomington's Dewenter & Co. fea- 
tured an ad with University of Illinois 
halfback Jud Timm wearing "the new 
campus crusher" felt hat, priced at $1.50. 
But Charles O'Malley had them all beat. 
"The Store for Young Men" on 317 N. 
Main offered "A new three-button [suit] 
designed exclusively for our Wesleyan 
trade by Lindenthal" — named "The 
Argus" (September 20, 1927). Yellow 
Cab Co. operated in Bloomington and 
advertised special student rates: "one 
trunk, 35 cents; each additional, 25 cents; 
extra man, 25 cents" (February 18, 
1923). And the Irvin Theater advertised 
special movie nights for Illinois 
Wesleyan students. 

But the best buys in town could be 
found at the eateries near courthouse 
square. The Boston Cafe, three doors 
west of the Illinois Hotel, offered 39-cent 




Complete with 12 records 
of your own choice 

as Sow as 


This U the only music store In 
the cfty where you will rind tide 
by tide for careful comparison 
both the world's greatest phono- 
graphs-- Vlctrola and Brunswick. 


42 G N. Main St. 

Welcome I. W. U. Homecomers! 


Celebrate Homecoming Activities 
in One of These Smart My Store 





You'll find an added pie 

Miss Wesleyan 
and Madam Alumni- 

Ilcrc arc styles that will grade A-Plus in. 
school and social activities. Carefully selected 
by our expert stylists in Eastern fashion 
centers, these dresses reflect the authentic 
style dictates of foremost Paris designers. 


IK selecting Coats, Hats and Frocks here 
are remarkably comprehensive 

Chapter 8 Argus Advertising— A Sign of the Times 168 






A new threerbutton model de- 
signed exclusively for our Wes- 
leyan trade by Lindenthal. 

Trousers have double knees to 
prevent bagging, and double seat. 
A great selection from thirty-five 
to fifty dollars. 

Other lines from twenty-five to fifty. Get the 
habit of watching our windows for new things. 




A Special offering of our regular 
$2.50 English Broadcloth 

$1 .85 



A great variety of colors 
and designs 



Smart "dinky" shapes and 
new colors 

Here is where the Snappy 


Comes from 





lunches and dinners, while the Arlington Cafeteria at the Arlington Hotel, one 
block west of the courthouse, offered students "All you can eat for 39 cents" 
(November 27, 1923). For insomniacs (or pajama paraders), Green Mill Cafe 
on 212 W. Washington St. was open day and night and sold cigars and cigarettes. 
When the Depression struck in the 1930s, ads dwindled. The Castle and 
Irvin Theaters continued to advertise, as well as the utilities and a number of 
local merchants grouped into generic "box" ads. Mac's Barber shop) — "Campus 
choice, campus location at 1306 N. Main St., basement — offered haircuts for 25 
cents, and Parker Pens exhorted students to "Back your brains with the All-Star 
Pen." Parker also sold class rings, while Greyhound advertised, "Save your 
wampum, pilgrims ... on your trip home for Thanksgiving [1936]." But the ad 

Chapter 8 Argus Advertising— A Sign of the Times 169 

a pleasant place to stay 


The new gaiety reaches its fullest measure 
at Hotel Atlantic. . . .Right in the heart of the 
Loop with everything of interest at-hand~yet 
quiet and peaceable as can be in your room. 

45 O Rooms from *2?° Daily 

Ernest C Roesslbj 
Frederick CTeich 

Managing Directors 



campaign that must have inter- 
ested Illinois Wesleyan stu- 
dents the most was a series 
"spotlighting" IWU coeds. A. 
Livingston & Sons featured a 
different coed each week — and 
a different shoe. From saddle 
oxfords to peek-a-boo toes, the 
weekly advertisement ran 
always in the same spot. One 
even spotlighted associate 
Argus editor Charlotte 
Fitzhenry Robling wearing 
"sweetheart sandles." The 
1930s also saw the first ad 
insert, a handbill from the 
Castle Theater announcing its 
daily 20-cent double-features: 
"never before in the Theatrical 
History of Bloomington has 
such a Bargain in Deluxe 
Entertainment been offered on a daily program." 

In the 1940s, war took up so much space that the ads dwindled. But Coca- 
Cola made a splash in The Argus with two series of advertisements — one on 
different locations where Coke was "the global high-sign," and the other on "big 
moments" in people's lives. Record stores also advertised a great deal, with 
Music Mart Records running a one-column list of offerings down the entire page 
and E. W. Gilbert catering to a poorer crowd. The downtown record shop 
offered a "big selection" of used records for 15 cents each. Another frequent 
advertiser was Hall's Tog [Clothing] Shop, featuring the latest in McGregor 

By the 1950s, The Argus had four movie theaters advertising in its pages. 
Joining the Castle and Irvin were the Esquire Theater and the Drive-In. 
Wesleyan must have also witnessed an auto explosion, because ads for service 
stations began to appear in The Argus, alongside Sorg's Jeweler's sterling silver- 
ware ("We have your pattern") and W.B. Read & Co.'s "Football Cush-n-Robes" 
from $9.95-$ 19.95 (October 8, 1952). The Lucca Grill began advertising, as did 
flower shops promoting corsages. As if to insinuate that Argus readers could 
appreciate the difference, Ken Way Photographers specialized in "Good pho- 

A decade later, Coke had phased out of Argus advertising, replaced by pizza 
joints (Shakey's, Tobin's, Pizza Hut and Gino's Tower of Pizza) and fast-food 
chains (McDonald's, John Bull Roast Beef Sandwiches and Burger Chef). Ads 
also appeared for Bob Johnson's Brandtville Restaurant, Fred's Spudnuts, penny 

Chapter 8 Argus Advertising— A Sign of the Times 170 

loafers, soft pretzels, VW "beetles," Yamaha motorcycles, Jack Lewis jewelers 
and auto insurance. The 1960s saw the emergence of full-page ads — quite a few 
of them, including a paid advertisement for the Nixon-Agnew campaign and a 
smaller enticement to "Join College Republicans." Argus readers still had their 
choice of four cinemas: they could see "High Wild and Free" at the Drive-in, 
"McLintock!" at the Castle, "Gidget Goes to Rome" at the Irvin, or "Lord of the 
Flies" at the Normal Theater. 

Students in the 1970s saw advertisements for stereo "sound" shops and bars 
like Someplace Else, The Cave, or Josies, where they could go for $1 happy hour 

U<, $. Army Announcement 



Aist. Director 
Field Director 
lit Officer 
2nd Officer 
3rd Officer 

166 67 

Chief Leader Matter Serf cant 

lit Leader Fint Striatal , 

Tech. Leader Tact. Serjeant 

Stiff Leader Staff Sergeant 

Technician, 3rd Grade Technician, 3rd Grade 

Leader Sergeant 

Technician, 4th Technician, 4th Grade 

Jr. Leader Corporal 

Technician, 5th Grade Technician, Sth Grade 

Auxiliary, 111 Clan Private, 111 Clara 54.00 

Auxiliary Private 

Hour Army has scorer) of jobs in the WAAC for 
alert college women . . . jobs vital to the war . . . 
jobs that will train you for interesting new careers 
in the post-war world. And here is good news 
indeed — you may enroll now in the fast-growing 
WAAC and be placed on inactive duty until the 
school year ends. Then you will be subject to 
call for duty with this splendid women's corps 
and be launched upon an adventure such as no 
previous generation has known. 

New horizons . . . new places and people . . . 
interesting, practical experience with good pay 
. . . and, above all, a real opportunity to help 
your country by doing essential military work for 
the U. S. Army that frees a soldier for combat 
duty. These are among many reasons why thou- 
sands of American women ure responding to the 
Army's need. 

You will receive valuable training which may 
fit you for many of the new careers which are 
opening to women, and full Army pay while 
doing so. And by joining now you will have 
excellent chances for quick advancement for, as 
the WAAC expands, many more officers are 
needed. Every member — regardless of race, color 
or creed — has equal opportunity and is encour- 
aged to compete for selection to Officer Candidate 
School. If qualified, you may obtain a commission 
in 12 weeks after beginning basic training. 

Go to your WAAC Faculty Adviser for further 
information on the list of openings, pay, and 
promotions. Or inquire at any TJ. S. Army 
Recruiting and Induction Station. 

•mrtai Miw 


:|p> W< 





Chapter 8 Argus Advertising— A Sign of the Times 171 

pitchers of beer. Head shops 
(offering Zig-Zag papers, black 
light posters, bong pipes) also 
appeared, with one of them, 
Man-Ding-Go's, claiming to be 
"The Store for Body and Soul." 
Student Union Committee 
Movies debuted, advertising 50 
cent movies in the Memorial 
Center, and concerts at nearby 
colleges found their way into The 
Argus pages. Jefferson Airplane 
played at the University of 
Illinois, and R.E.O. Speedwagon 
played at the Red Lion. Other 
ads offered students macrame 
belt kits, bell bottoms and guitars. 

By the 1980s, local cinemas 
had stopped advertising in The 
Argus, though movie studios still 
placed large ads to inform stu- 
dents of "coming attractions." 
The May 1, 1987 Argus pre- 
viewed "Full Metal Jacket," for 
example. Compared to other 
decades, however, the 1980s and 
early 1990s had less ads and less vari- 
ety. Pizza places were still popular, 
and Chicago Dough Company, Papa 
John's, and Garcia's became regular 
advertisers. For a change of diet, stu- 
dents were encouraged to patronize 
Avanti's Italian Restaurant. Among 
noticeable changes, ads for campus 
organizations increased — especially 
fraternities and sororities — and 
national ads appeared for spring break 
packages, GTE Academic Ail- 
Americans, the Chicago Tribune, 
State Farm Insurance and Apple- 
Macintosh Computers. 

Out of all the decades, perhaps the 
most memorable (if not creative) use 

Don't Let Freedom 
Be Cut "OFF THE AIR"! 

Your Truth Dollars Are Needed Today! work are at work, overpowering "jamming" 

~ . .. . , from Red stations, slashing through Red lies, 

Can you imagine it: A policeman s wary eye renewin h t hat ileedom ^ aomt day 

following you wherever youjfo . - - your return to the peoples behind the Iron Curtain, 
neighbor s ear anxiously pressed to your door, 

listening for the slightest slip of your tongue Why your help Is needed 

. . . a loud-speaker "serenading" you all day But Radio Free Europe needs your help to 

with warnings, instructions, propaganda lies? stay D n the air. It is a private organization 

70,000,000 people behind the Iron Curtain supported by the American people. Your 

will be buried under this avalanche of oppres- dollars are needed to help operate transmit- 

sion unless you help. For, word of freedom ters, pay for equipment, supplies, announcers 

can only come to them one way: over the and political analysts. Don't let freedom be 

radio, from stations like those of Radio Free cut "off the air"! Freedom is not free! 

Europe. Every day, every hour, the 29 super- Tour dollars are needed to keep Radio , 

powered transmitters of this freedom net- Free Europe on the air! 







$188 Down Plus State Taxes 

$49.50 Per Month 

Delivered in Bloomington with 
heater, turn signals, leather- 
ette interior, bucket seats, wind- 
shield washers and electric 
wipers at no extra cost. 

400 W. Front 
Phone 822-7720 

Chapter 8 Argus Advertising— A Sign of the Times 172 

Wednesday Night will be Wesleyan Night 




TONITE: 7.00-8:30- 10:00 


/it: i At 
R08i RT Ml 

Ph. 828-8625 ^ \A 

NOW SHOWING! 7:00-8:35 

1:30-3:00-4:35-6:10-7:40 & 9:15 




and nothing in common 
but the hunger of 1,000 
nights without a man! 

'BLACK MAMA, WHITE MAMA" pam grier- margaret 

Chapter 8 Argus Advertising— A Sign of the Times 173 

201 W.Jefferson 

In rime for Christmas? 
Of course. 

Select her engagement 

diamond now. 

and her ring will be ready for the 
Holiday Celebrations. 

Convenient terms available for students 

of advertisements occurred shortly after 
the basketball team wrapped up the 
NCAA Division III Regional 
Championship with a victory over 
Millikin. The Argus had just been 
informed that its budget would be cut by 
Student Senate, and the editors decided 
to get Senate's goat. On the March 4, 
1988 sports page, editor J. Arlen 
Bowyer ran advertisements instead of 
cage coverage, along with this notice: 

The Argus regrets having to 
substitute advertisements in 
place of sports coverage, but 
due to recent unexpected bud- 
getary cutbacks made by the 
Financial Advisory Board of 
Student Senate, the Argus was 
forced to cut back and favor 
revenue-raising advertisements 
over printed copy. 

Twice before, in its 100-year history, Argus advertising has sparked contro- 
versy. In 1940, the staff wanted to include tobacco ads because they thought it 
would generate revenue for extra photographs and pages. However, the adminis- 
tration nixed the idea. In a February 6, 1940 editorial, The Argus, under the edi- 
torship of Mary Fran Payne and the business management of Al Hartman ('40), 
Jim Robinson ('41) and Lyle Veitch ('40), listed their rationale for wanting to run 
cigarette ads: 

With the money brought in by such national advertising, The Argus could 
become a much better paper. We could . . . [use the extra revenue] in any 
number of ways. ... In arguing that The Argus carry such advertising, we 
are not advocating or even condoning smoking on the part of students. 
Despite The Argus' plea, tobacco advertising never appeared in the newspa- 
per. The closest it came was printing 1947 and 1949 ads for Hoppe's Cigar 
Store. Twenty years later the cigarette advertising issue surfaced again, and once 
again the staff was told it couldn't run the ads. That's when an Argus editorial 
attacked the administration for having a double standard. According to editor 
Ruth Nordin Zervas: 

In 1962 cigarette reps used to leave free samples around campus, and 
there was a cigarette machine in the Dug Out. The Argus was operating 
"in the red," and we felt that [since the administration would not permit 
cigarette ads in the paper] we should take a stand. Here they were trying 
to be moral, but they would still allow the reps and the machine. 
Nordin Zervas' March 23 editorial, "Cigarette Advertising Would Solve 

Chapter 8 Argus Advertising— A Sign of the Times 174 

Sensational! "Custombirr" Imported 


BRIAR $61.50 



Are NOT 

Seconds, But 


Pocket Size Pipes, 

With the Full-Sized Smoke! 

A Rare Find at Only $2.50! 


THE PIPE CENTER OF ILLINOIS Southwest Corner Square 

Argus Financial Problems," 
offered the administration and 
Student Senate an ultimatum: 
either allow cigarette adver- 
tising or raise the student 
activity fee. The editorial 
claimed that the allowance of 
tobacco machines in the 
Memorial Student Center was 
"an inconsistency in [admin- 
istrative] policy" and that "it 
is highly unlikely that Student 
Senate can afford to increase 
The Argus budget very much 
without raising the activity 
fee." Responses to the editor- 
ial filled the next three editions. The majority of readers supported The Argus' 
position, calling tobacco advertising "a necessary evil." Readers, most of whom 
wished to remain anonymous, urged the university to stay consistent in its poli- 
cies and either remove the cigarette machines from campus or allow tobacco ads 
in the newspaper. The strongest opposition to The Argus' viewpoint came from 
John A. Cummens ('64), who was "shocked and angry that our student body 
would usurp the rules and duty of the Methodist Church in the area of abstinence 
from tobacco" (April 6, 1962). Like Cummens, those who opposed cigarette 
advertisements in the school paper advised those who felt the urge to violate the 
rules of the Methodist Church [by smoking] to leave Wesleyan. 

The uproar finally forced an administrative response. Although The Argus 

wasn't given the go-ahead on ciga- 
rette advertising, Nordin Zervas 
said that they did manage "to cre- 
ate enough flak toward the admin- 
istration that they took the 
machine out of the Dug Out and, 
as a result, the reps stopped com- 
ing to campus." 

Another conflict over advertis- 
ing involved alcohol. It began in 
1968 when The Argus ran ads for 
establishments that served alco- 
holic beverages. After receiving 
an "unknown number of com- 
plaints," dean of students Anne 
Meierhofer raised concerns with 
the Publications Committee, as 







Study Hour Friday — 4:30 - 6:30 
— All drinks Vt price — 


Chapter 8 Argus Advertising— A Sign of the Times 175 

reported in "Parent commission backs Argus alcohol ad policy" (November 22, 
1968). The concern was specifically brought about by a plain boxed ad for The 
Library, a local coffee-house type bar. The mention of "drinks" in small print at 
the bottom of the ad caused such a panic among parents and administrators that a 
special committee was formed to investigate The Argus' ad policy. After study- 
ing the issue, the Campus Life Committee, predominantly made up of IWU par- 
ents, supported the university's anti-alcohol stance. However, they suggested a 
new policy (which was adopted and enforced until 1973) whereby alcoholic bev- 
erages were only to appear in advertisements as side-notes, not as the main focus. 

The change in the alcohol advertisement policy gave the newspaper room to 
expand. In 1973, after the drinking age was lowered from 21 to 19 in Illinois, 
The Argus published ads for nationally known brands of beer, according to 1972- 
74 editor David Gathman. "Up until I became the editor, the newspaper did not 
run alcohol ads. But we were a liberal bunch and the staff pressured me to run 
them," he said. The 1972-73 staff reasoned that alcohol ads could be included 
because of the change in the legal drinking age. Once again, the administration's 
response to the issue was perceived as inconsistent. Despite allowing beer in 
students' private rooms, the administration frowned on the presence of beer ads 
in the newspaper. According to Gathman, "[President] Eckley never really said 
'You can't do this,' because he recognized that The Argus was a student paper. 
But he was not thrilled [with alcohol advertising]. He said that the Church and 
the Board of Trustees might disagree with our policy." 

But national alcohol ads brought in more money than local ads, and The 
Argus wanted the business. A February 1973 letter from a New York advertising 
agency offered $1000 worth of national beer advertising to The Argus. While 
Gathman wanted to comply with Campus Life's suggested policy of not running 
ads where alcohol was the main focus, the first ad for carry-out liquor appeared 
in the March 15, 1974 edition. Gathman, who rarely proofed advertisements, dis- 
covered the ad the next morning when the paper was released to the public. 
"Deep down, I was saddened," he remembered. "But I knew the time had come 
to accept this change. Liquor ads were now 'in.'" 

Full-page national beer and wine ads appeared by the end of the 1970s but 
were discontinued when the drinking age returned to 21 in 1980. Since 1991, 
however, alcoholic beverages have been able to sneak back into the newspaper 
through ads for local bars and pubs. Ross Minion ('94), business manager for the 
1993-94 Argus, said he encountered "no opposition from the administration" for 
printing any of the bar ads. 

Still, staffs in the 1990s have recognized that newspapers are as accountable 
for the ads they choose to run as they are for any editorial content. Ad managers, 
with the approval of the editor, have had to decide whether to run personal clas- 
sifieds and advertisements dealing with abortion clinics, surrogate motherhood, 
adoption, nude modeling, term paper mills and drug paraphernalia. Minion said 
he has rejected ads he found questionable. "I won't run anything that will harm 
or misinform students," he said. 

Chapter 8 Argus Advertising— A Sign of the Times 176 


523 N. Main St. IRISH PUB (f Bloomington 

iflJlonfrav * **** ** Free Pizza & $3.50 Pitchers 

tJTxte^rSray ************* $1 Schnaaps 

W«:fcrn«::S^av * $1 Kamikazee & Watermelon shots 

TltfiXLVsZy&v ************ $1.50 Imports 

<fBX>^vy Ifeigfyt ********** jello shots 

big screen tv 


Several "scam" ads 
have been sent to The 
Argus and, of course, 
have been refused. Such 
ads promoted study aids 
and research assistance 
for "nominal fees." , the 
newspaper learned that 
once students sent money 
to the company, they 
never heard from the 
advertisers. The 1993-94 
business staff researches 
all ads sent into the office, 
though with the majority 
of ads coming from local establishments, problems are rare. 

While they may have been seen as a budgetary mainstay, advertisements also 
reveal a bit of history. Rising prices serve as a good indicator of changing times, 
but the attraction of "cheaper" products tells a story about college students that 
fits every stereotype. As early as 1894, an ad for Bolles Tailor touted "low 
prices," while a September 1926 edition advertised men's suits for a mere $40. 
Between 1923 and 1930 the advertised average dress prices decreased, perhaps 
signifying that students were less inclined to spend money on "unnecessary" 
items during the Depression years. Students on the Wesley an campus no longer 
can remember when haircuts were 65 cents from the Illini Barber Shop (October 

13, 1948) or when Deweneter's offered 
"slacks" for $5.95 (October 19, 1962). 

Ads also tied Illinois Wesleyan to the 
larger world. In 1942, ads urged 
Wesleyan women to not only stay on the 
home front, but to enlist and join the 
fight as well. And during the Cold War, 
a 1961 ad for Radio Free Europe asked 
students to donate "Truth dollars" to save 
70 million people from the "avalanche of 
oppression behind the Iron Curtain." 
"Freedom is not free! Your dollars are 
needed to keep Radio Free Europe on the 
air!" the ad proclaimed. 

Advertisements also link students to 
other college students across regions — 
even across decades. Ads for an all-night 
1920s coffee shop or for 1970s and 1980s 





2 Over30 

HH varieties of 

/"*S condoms 


318 West Washington, 3rd Floor 
Bloomington, Illinois 
Open Saturdays 1 1-2 and 
Thursdays 2-7 p.m. 

hH seasonal 
Q novelty 
2 items 

Coupon expiree 

; 4-7-93 

Chapter 8 Argus Advertising— A Sign of the Times 177 

products like Vivarin caffeine pills indicate that Wesleyan study habits and the 
insomniac life of college students hasn't changed much over the years. 
Likewise, Argus ads indicate that weekends and diversions have always been 
important. Ads for movies have appeared since the 1920s. With the exception 
of a few movie advertisements scattered throughout 1980s editions, consistent 
movie ads left The Argus during the late 1970s, though editors no longer recall 
the reason. One can only speculate that the growing number of multi-screen 
movie complexes no longer needed to advertise in a newspaper with a circulation 
of only 1,700, when a larger market like the Vidette (circulation approximately 
25,000) was down the street. 

Finally, advertisers from the 1890s would be amazed in the changes in ad 
production. Virtually all of the ads in the 1990s Argus are submitted "camera- 
ready" or staff-generated on computers. 

Chapter 9 Sports 178 



"Tolly, Balolly, Baloo, Early Sports at IWU!» 

Former Illinois Wesleyan athletic director Jack Horenberger ('36) once 
called intercollegiate athletics from 1890 to the early 1900s "disorganized disor- 
ganization," and a look at the first two decades of Argus sports coverage con- 
firms that. With few coaches, little financial support and no National Collegiate 
Athletic Association (until 1906), college athletics existed with little or no ethi- 
cal guidelines. 

And with no sports editor, the first event covered by The Argus in the 
October 29, 1894 issue — the Illinois Inter-Collegiate Contest at Illinois College 
in Jacksonville — focused not on play-by-play as 1994 writers do, but on the 
crowds and cheers. The Olympic-style contest pitted Wesleyan, the University of 
Illinois, Knox, Monmouth, Blackburn and Illinois College against each other in 
foot-ball, base-ball (both were hyphenated in the old days), tennis, track, bicycle 
racing and, most popular of all, oratory. In fact, the oratory contest was so 
important that the winning oration from Knox made The Argus' front page. 
Points earned in each event determined a state champion at the end of the week- 
end. Although Wesleyan garnered two second-place finishes in bicycle racing 
and oratory, "she" finished dead last in the contest — which The Argus blamed on 
school spirit, or the lack thereof. Only 15 fans made the trip to the contest, 
which prompted the first of many school spirit articles chastising students and 
community for their apathy: 

The Jacksonville people were all wild over the Illinois College boys and 

everybody wore their colors and yelled for them. Imagine Bloomington 

going wild over Wesleyan! That is a very ludicrous idea and yet our 

own school is both larger and better than Illinois College. 

Editors devoted a whole page of this "inter-collegiate number" to cheers 

heard at the contest. Although small in number, the IWU contingency proudly 

shouted, "Tolly balolly baloo, rip rah roo! Boom de rah, boom de roo! We are 

in it! Who? Wesleyan, Wesleyan— IWU!" 

This traditional cheer was heard again in 1896, when Wesleyan won the 
inter-collegiate contest on its home turf. Norman R. Williams (1898), the first 
Argus "athletic editor," apparently had enough sway to get the staff to dedicate 

Chapter 9 Sports 179 

half of the October 23, 
1896 issue to the victory. 
But the front page head- 
line, "THE CUP IS 
OURS— Eureka and 
Blackburn easy victims — 
Knox and Illinois afraid 
of our athletes," greatly 
exaggerated Knox's and 
Illinois's fears. Buried in 
the article was a brief 
paragraph in which 
Williams explained how 
both schools, which tradi- 
tionally fielded strong 
teams, had a different 
date on their schedules 
for the contest. Thanks to 
disorganized disorganiza- 
tion (and their absence, 
due to misunderstanding), 
Wesleyan won the event 
with ease. 

Deception occurred not 
only in the early Argus, 
but on the field as well. 
On November 6, 1896, 
The Argus reported that 
Wesleyan's baseball managers and captains had recruited semi-pro "ringers" to 
pitch for IWU. Surely that and not "fear of our mighty players," as The Argus 
reported in previous issues, accounted for the number of opponents who chose to 
forfeit games rather than take the diamond against "the Wesleyan." As a result, 
the faculty and administration intervened in athletic affairs for the first time, 
declaring four baseball players "ineligible under college rules" and stipulating that 
any manager or captain who recruited "ringers" in the future would be suspended 
for a semester. 

In those early years, objectivity was hardly a part of the sportswriter's trade. 
When Wesleyan won, "she routed" her opponent, and when Wesleyan lost, writ- 
ers feasted on sour grapes. In a 1907 football story, "Wesleyan Loses a Winning 
Game," for example, The Argus reported that Illinois State Normal University 
"displayed good team work, but for individual work our team was superior. The 
ball was in Normal's territory most of the game." Given the tone of the article, 
one would never know that IWU lost 5-0. An earlier and more bitterly 
declaimed April 16, 1897 article described a women's basketball loss to the 



mm 1 



Sturdy and strong, each muscle in control, 
From practice field to his victorious goal 

He stands a king: 
From waking on to sleep, from day to day, 
One purpose holds an unrelenting sway; 

The game's the thing. 

He knows the value of the strong right arm. 
No trust gives he to luck or mystic charm, 

Yet more he seeks: 
His team must think as one swift-working 

Must meet no loss they cannot mold to gain 
Before he speaks. 

Before him as he stands he sees the field, 
The points of struggle where his foe will 

The hard-won goal: 
He cannot see the strifes of coming years. 
His value for the nation and his peers: 

A ruling soul. 

—By Mrs. Grace Jewett Austin. 

NOVEMBER 2 3, 1910 


ickfield (and poetry) in motion (1910). 

Chapter 9 Sports 180 

Decatur Athletic Club: 

It was the worst robbery since Hercules stole the dogs of Hades. The 

referee called fouls on Wesleyan every half minute, whether there was a 

foul or not. . . . One of Decatur's goals never even went in the basket. It 

hit the side and we were blamed for knocking it out. 

The first Argus play-by-play reporting came in the November 12, 1894 issue, 

where the headline proclaimed "In a Hot Game of Foot-ball the Eureka Eleven 

Beats the Wesleyan": 

The playing was brisk from the very beginning, and the Wesleyan made 
a touch down while Eureka was catching her breath, and followed this 
by a successful kick of goal, making the first score of the game and the 
only one she made. The Wesleyan made her six points within five min- 
utes after the game was called, and a long intermission in Eureka's favor 
followed. Eureka was aroused to the playing point and made "touch 
downs" and "kicked goal" so fast you could hardly count them, and 
when time was called at the end of the last half had fifty points, having 
failed to kick goal only twice, and she won the game in a score of 50 to 6. 
Early issues of The Argus rarely covered women's athletics, perhaps because 
sanctioned competition did not begin until the late 1960s. In the 1890s and early 
1900s, basketball was the lone exception. IWU public speaking and physical 
education instructor Delmar Darrah introduced the sport to Bloomington-Normal 
in 1893, according to an article in the Illinois Wesleyan library archives. Back 
then, male athletes considered it "a sissy women's game" because any contact 
resulted in a foul. When covering this women's basketball victory over Illinois 
State Normal University, Argus sports writers focused on more than just the 

The Wesleyan girls were handicapped by the smoothness of the floor of 
the gymnasium, not being prepared for anything smooth at that institu- 
tion. The Normal girls refused to allow the boys to witness the game. 
Not so with Wesleyan. They were willing and eager to distinguish them- 
selves before their admirers among the sterner sex. (November 6, 1896) 
It wasn't until 1909 that male students took interest in the less-than-manly sport 
of basketball and formed Wesleyan's first team (without a coach). After that, 
The Argus gave as much space to women's basketball as it did to women's ten- 
nis, swim meets or intramural play — next to zero. Even in 1923, when the univer- 
sity organized the Women's Athletic Association (WA.A.) to coordinate and super- 
vise intramural contests, coverage of women's sports remained slight. 

Although baseball was IWU's first sport — the team suited up in 1878 — foot- 
ball was most widely covered in The Argus. Part of it was timing. Through the 
1930s, the baseball season ran until late June, long after the semester had ended, 
so it is no surprise that the newspaper skimped on coverage, reporting only box 
scores and game summaries from the first half of the season. In fact, fall intramural 
baseball received almost as much coverage as the varsity team — and the accounts 

Chapter 9 Sports 181 

were much more entertaining. In one memorable game, the faculty downed the 
senior class 31-4, and chemistry professor Robert O. Graham reportedly "pound- 
ed the cover off the sphere, so professor Snyder had to go to Read's and get 
another." In 1994, Read's Sporting Goods remains a Bloomington-Normal fixture. 
IWU's first band of gridders hit the field in 1887, and the squad of 1890 is 
famous for shutting out the University of Illinois 16-0 in the Illini's first game. 
Football continued strong through 1896, with The Argus covering Wesleyan's 
every tackle, yard and point. But when a new afternoon class policy halted foot- 
ball practice and threatened to cancel the 1897 season, sports editor Norman 
Williams (1898), who eventually wrote for The Chicago Daily News, was up in 
arms. "Can it be that the air of Wesley an is so hostile to athletics that it smothers 
and kills the athletic aspirations and desires of former enthusiasts?" he asked in 
the October 1, 1897 Argus. Apparently so, for another 1897 article, "War on 
Football," reported nine deaths that occurred nationwide on the gridiron that 
year. The article also reported, "An ordinance to prohibit the game was asked 
for in the Bloomington council, but the request was denied by a vote of 1 1 to 3 — 
Dr. Graham of the Wesleyan leading the opposition" (November 29, 1897). 

With more prodding from Williams, Wesleyan played five unofficial football 
games in 1897 — four of them against non-college opponents and one against 
Eureka College — without a coach. None counted on the university's official 
record. Williams continued to bemoan the state of intercollegiate athletics at 
Wesleyan throughout the rest of the school year, and his one-man crusade even- 
tually persuaded the university to hire Mr. CD. Enochs as football coach and 
lead the program back to prominence. In 1898, Williams, now an alum, must 
have taken special pleasure in reading that "Monmouth came, saw and was con- 
quered" by Wesleyan's football team, 11-0. The Argus added that young men at 
Wesleyan were growing their hair long, once more, "so that it would absorb 
shock when tucked beneath headgear." 

When football was axed again after a three-year combined record of 11-9-2, 
The Argus once again led the fight to reinstate the program. Sports editor Harry 
D. Cassaday ('04) lambasted the university's athletic board: 

The lack of interest in athletic affairs in the Wesleyan is certainly 

deplorable. Cornell [University's] athletic expense is nearly $50,000. 

That would . . . keep our teams going for 25 years. At the present rate of 

expenditure it would last to eternity. (October 10, 1902) 

Cassaday continued his attack for two years, printing other college football 

scores where Wesleyan game stories would normally be. Finally, in 1904, after 

"taunting remarks from outsiders to the extent that Wesleyan was becoming a 

dead one," according to a September 23, 1904 Argus editorial, the university 

brought in coach James Riley to revive the team, and Argus football game stories 

returned to the front page. The Argus declared that football and athletics were 

"the anti-toxin for that something's wrong with me feeling that we had at the 

beginning of the last year," and students attended games with new enthusiasm. 

In 1907, the newspaper featured player and coach photographs for the first time. 

Chapter 9 Sports 182 



NOVEMBER 15, 1910 

What stands out in 
this 100-year retrospec- 
tive is the parity and 
status that sports gave 
Wesleyan among larger 
schools, before big 
money and scholarships 
created divisions in the 
NCAA. In 1910, the 
year that Wesleyan's 
football team was 
declared small college 
state champs with a 7-1 
record, Wesleyan "stole 
the purple flag'* against 
"Big 8" Northwestern 
University 3-0 in 
Evanston. But the 
biggest win of the sea- 
son — a 12-0 shut-out of 
James Millikin Univer- 
sity, whose mighty team 
had crushed Wesleyan 
in five previous bat- 
tles — merited the only 
Argus sports "Extra" in 
history. The 16-page extra, which had contributions from nine different writers 
and pictures and comments from all the players, described every aspect of 
Wesleyan's 12-0 shutout, from a massive pep rally Friday night to the theft of 
Millikin's goat mascot on Saturday. "There have been many great days in the 
history of Wesleyan . . . but the week just past is without doubt composed of the 
seven greatest days of all," The Argus wrote. 

However, just two years after Wesleyan won the mythical state champi- 
onship, it endured a 3-4 season that included an 87-3 loss at Illinois, which 
remains the largest victory margin recorded by any Illinois team. "The results of 
that game are now recorded in the annals of time and the less we think about 
them the better," wrote George Stautz ('14), Argus athletic editor. Like most 
Argus sports editors, Stautz still found the game's bright features: "Dunham's 
drop kick from the forty yard line was one [which accounted for the three 
points]. While his wind lasted" (October 29, 1912). 

In victory and defeat, one of the sports page's famous characters was Fred 
Muhl, Wesleyan athletic director until 1921 and mathematics professor until 
1944. During the 1910 football season, the sports section had a habit of extend- 
ing Muhl's advice to the football team to other aspects of student life. Before the 


The first " Extra" in Argus history celebrated a 12-0 gridiron 
victory over James Millikin University. 

Chapter 9 Sports 183 

Muhl (Coach) 

The team that beat Northwestern University (1910). 

team defeated Northwestern, Muhl advised his players, "Don't bunch together 
and give your college yell. Don't give nine rahs for Northwestern after the game 
either. That's all right for a high school team . . . but it doesn't look well for a 
college." The Argus sports page added that if the entire campus followed Muhl's 
advice, class elections would be held without infighting, Wesleyan freshman and 
sophomores would not rudely insult each other (as was customary in those days) 
and underclassmen would respect those above them. 

Whether or not Muhl inspired the student body, his record shows he must 
have inspired his athletic teams. In football, he logged a 44-40-11 record, and a 
139-62 mark as a basketball coach. As Wesleyan's first basketball coach, The 
Argus reported him directing the "Methodist Five" to a 15-4 season in 1910-11 
and a 14-3 mark in 1911-12. Led by high-scoring freshman Fred Young ('15), 
Wesleyan also ran away with the Illinois small college basketball tournament in 
1912, defeating Bradley Institute 23-19 and Millikin 18-8 for the championship. 
A March 25, 1912 page-one Argus sports story after the tourney highlighted 
Wesleyan's victories over non-conference opponents, and reasoned that Muhl's 
Green and White should be declared the Midwest's best team: "Wesleyan defeat- 
ed DePaul by a larger score than Notre Dame and ... by comparative scores 
Wesleyan also has the dope on Augustana College in Rock Island and 
Northwestern College [later North Central College] in Naperville." The Argus 
also credited Muhl with establishing intercollegiate cross country, golf, track and 
tennis teams at IWU, as well as helping found Wesleyan's first conference, the 
Illinois Intercollegiate Athletic Conference, better known then as the "Little 

Although Illinois Wesleyan produced some fairly successful athletic teams 
during World War I, The Argus paid more attention to the battles taking place 
overseas than on Wilder Field or at the Bloomington YMCA, where Wesleyan 
played basketball until the university constructed its Memorial Gymnasium in 1921. 

After the war, sports rumbled throughout The Argus. From 1921 to 1923, 

Chapter 9 Sports 184 

football, basketball and baseball game stories consistently made the front page, 
usually accompanied by pictures and sports feature stories on athletes and coach- 
es. Even the "Wesleyan Invitational" high school basketball tournament 
received extensive coverage. 

From 1924 to 1925, sports lost some of their luster. Game stories still 
appeared on the front page, but player profiles and photos disappeared from the 
inside pages. This treatment only changed when page one of the December 17, 
1924 issue reported "Reuben Borsch wins Rhodes Scholarship." The scholar- 
ship committee selected Borsch, who was "practically a straight 'A student," 
varsity basketball and baseball player, and Y.M.C.A. president, over 587 candi- 
dates from 184 different colleges, including 12 finalists from the University of 
Chicago, University of Illinois and Northwestern. "Borsch's selection is there- 
fore a tribute not only to him, but also to his university, and shows something of 
the high regard in which Wesleyan is generally held in the academic world," The 
Argus wrote. Borsch was the first of two IWU Rhodes Scholars. The second 
came in 1957, when John E. Jordan ('57), a member of Wesley an's marching 
band, won the scholarship. 

In 1926, under the direction of Richard Finfgeld, the sports page returned to 
its glory days with features, photographs and game summaries. Intramural sports 
coverage reached its zenith: baseball, basketball, tennis, volleyball, swimming 
and track for men; baseball, basketball, swimming and field hockey for women. 
A sports column, "The Colonel's Corner," written by an anonymous writer under 
the pseudonym "Colonel Tikweu," appeared and continued through the 1928-29 
academic year. The Colonel told anecdotes about both professional and 
Wesleyan players and coaches, and made many attempts to boost school spirit. 

Fred Young: Wesleyan's Own Sports Legend 

But perhaps no one did more for school spirit from the 1920s to the 1980s 
than Wesleyan athlete turned Pantagraph sports editor Fred "Brick" Young. The 
IWU basketball player who lit up the scoreboards from 1911 to 1915 assisted the 
Wesleyan athletic program and, later, The Argus as much as his busy writing, 
coaching and officiating schedule allowed. 

Even though Young never wrote for The Argus as an Illinois Wesleyan stu- 
dent, his presence was felt. Randomly pick up an issue between 1911 and 1915, 
and readers will likely see Young's name everywhere. In his college days, he 
captained two Little Nineteen conference-championship basketball teams and 
two runners-up. In an era where game scores rarely reached 50 points, he aver- 
aged 25 points per game. In looking back at Young's career, 1915-16 Argus ath- 
letics editor Howard Rhea ('17) described it as "one of the brightest basketball 
records ever made in the minor colleges of the Central West" (March 1, 1916). 

Basketball was not Young's only sport. He also excelled on the diamond 
as "Wesleyan's No. 1 varsity twirler." The highlight of his career came when he 
pitched a no-hitter against future Cub hurler Joe Cook in a semi-pro league and 
drove in Jim Elliot (father of Pete and Bump) for the game's lone run. Despite 
his talents, Brick told The Argus he never was satisfied with his baseball ability. 

Chapter 9 Sports 185 

Illinois Wesleyan Argus 

Wesleyan's Most Successful Season in Its History 

Green and White Quintet Has Won Thirteen Out of Fourteen Conference 
Games — Summary of Players for the Season 

Wesleyan. 41; Eureka College 
Wesleyan 23; l.ak< : Forest M 
Wesleyan 35, De J'anl Uni< 

«y 25. 

Wesleyan 15; I-akc Forest .': 
Wesleyan JV; Normal Unix 

kethall live i 
The Metho.iis 

which is by far the best recor< 
ever made l>y a Methodist basket 
ball team. While two defeats ar. 
chalked uj> against the team in a 
many (fames with Lake i-Wcst, i 
must he admitted that lite .''"rest 
er, were played when the tean 


Few know that 
Young claimed tennis 
to be his best sport, 
according to Illinois 
Wesleyan's sports 
information director, 
Stew Salowitz ('76). 
As a Wesleyan raque- 
teer, he twice finished 
second in the Little 
Nineteen conference 
tournament and won 
the Illinois high 
school singles title at 
Normal Community. 

After a stint as a 
basketball and base- 
ball player, Young's 
journalistic back- 
ground wasn't that 
extensive when he 
started writing as a 
reporter for The 
Pantagraph in 1918. 
Outside of his 
Wesleyan degree, the 
only qualification he 
listed on his job 
application was his 
job as a newspaper 
carrier for the Bulletin (Bloomington's other daily paper). However, Young's all- 
around knowledge of athletics made him a natural sports writer, and he became 
sports editor of The Pantagraph on May 15, 1922. 

He received his nickname, "Brick," while living in the IWU Sigma Chi House, 
according to former Argus sports editor Don Raycraft, who along with Salowitz 
and former IWU football player Marty Capodice ('65), co-authored the book 
McLean County Sports: A Sentimental Journey. Raycraft said Young was one of 
the fraternity's most conservative members, prompting his brothers to call him 
"little Brigham Young." People shortened Brigham to Brick, and the name stuck. 
But Young wasn't conservative when it came to helping Argus staffers. 
During his 36-year tenure as Pantagraph sports editor, he gave a number of his 
stories to The Argus free of charge. When the newspaper celebrated its 50th 
anniversary in 1944, Young fittingly wrote the "History of Sports at IWU" for a 

Also Claim Over NonConferenct 

Cntnin Fred II. Young 

Captain Fred Young led the IWU basketball team to a 14-3 
record during the 1911-12 season, including victories over 
DePaul University and Bradley Institute. 

Chapter 9 Sports 186 

special supplement. With his trademark straw hat and cigar, he was a popular 
target for Argus photographers and a great storyteller whose anecdotes made him 
an ubiquitous presence in sports features. 

At times he was so downright ubiquitous that people had to shake their heads 
in amazement. According to the November 30, 1980 Pantagraph, for example, 
Young simultaneously coached five McLean County high school basketball 
teams and officiated a tournament where all five competed. When two of his 
teams played each other, he divided his halftime pep talks between them. As a 
referee, Young officiated 13 straight Illinois high school basketball finals and 
many of the nation's top college football games, including five Army-Notre 
Dame contests. He also worked in the National Football League and was field 
judge when the Chicago Bears destroyed the Washington Redskins 73-0 for the 
1940 NFL title. 

"For 20 years, Brick was known as the best combination football-basketball 
official in the nation," said former athletic director Jack Horenberger. "All play- 
ers and coaches knew and respected him, and the fact that he was so well-known 
enabled him to do some great things for Illinois Wesleyan teams." 

The greatest occurred in 1939, when Young's connections as a sportswriter 
and official sent the Titans to Cooperstown, New York, to play on legendary 
Doubleday Field (where baseball was supposedly first played in 1839) at the 
opening of the Baseball Hall of Fame. The Argus reported that, in a round robin 
tournament, IWU downed the University of Virginia 9-8 in 1 1 innings on June 
17, but lost to Cornell University 3-2 in 10 on June 16 (Virginia beat Cornell, 
leaving all three schools with 1-1 records in the tournament.). Cooperstown's 
Hall of Fame was dedicated just before the tourney on June 12, part of the sum- 
mer-long festivities commemorating 100 years of baseball. 

Young also organized Wesleyan's first spring baseball road trip, an idea so 
new in 1930 that Michigan State was the only other midwestern college to do so. 
According to Horenberger, Young "single-handedly recruited most of the good 
athletes we had from 1925 to 1965, and he never got a dime for it. In fact, he 
wrote so many letters, he probably lost money." Young also served as the 
College Conference of Illinois and Wisconsin's commissioner for 17 years. He 
twice was a member of the United States Olympic Committee. 

It must have come as no shock when The Argus reported on October 8, 1965 
that the university named him "Mr. Illinois Wesleyan" at the 1965 homecoming 
game — a title informally given to only two others, Fred Muhl and Jack 
Horenberger. Although Young died in 1980 at the age of 88, his name still 
appears in The Argus every time the Titans play a game at Fred Young 
Fieldhouse, which was dedicated on March 2, 1965, and which will be torn 
down when the new Shirk Athletic Center opens in 1994 to make room for park- 
ing. A memorial to Young is planned for the Shirk Center. 

Young once said that "sportsmanship is simple. It is merely being gentle in 
strength; being courageous in weakness; keeping the rules; playing the game; 
being on the level with adversaries and being on the level with yourself." 

Chapter 9 Sports 187 

The Birth of the Titans 

The world of sports is full of nicknames like the "The Four Horsemen," 
"Crazylegs" Hirsch, "Bull Dog Turner" or, more recently, Michael "Air" Jordan, 
"Black Jack" McDowell, William "The Refrigerator" Perry, and "Sir Charles" 
Barkley. In the early years of Wesleyan sports, The Argus featured "handles" 
just as colorful, including football players "War Horse" Amos Johnson (offen- 
sive tackle on the 1898 team), "Battering Ram" O'Dwyer (an 1898 fullback who 
"could go through the line like a buzz-saw through a chunk of butter"), "Flying 
Dutchman" Heafer (a defensive end on the 1898 team), "Silent" Fred Muhl 
(Wesleyan football coach from 1909-1920, so named in 1910 because he walked 
softly and carried a big stick), Bill "Big Steine" Steinkraus (the offensive tackle 
for the 1910 state champs), "Bustem"' Bob Morrow (a 1940 fullback who led the 
Titans to a conference championship, made the Chicago Tribune's all-star team 
and coached the Titans from 1947-1950), Don "Swede" Larson (Wesleyan's 
fullback and football MVP in 1948 who also came back to coach the Titans from 
1955-1986) and Don "Houn'dog" Eddy (a "big left tackle" on the 1949 football team). 
Then there were baseball players Roy "Rookey" Church (who "wielded the 
willow so well he put the average batter to shame" in 1902), Bobby "Ace" 
Winkles (who "handled the third base hot corner for the Titan baseball team 
very capably" in 1949 and ended up managing in the majors), as well as Glenn 
"Frenchie" Haussler (the only freshman athlete in Wesleyan history to letter in 
four sports — football, basketball, baseball and track — in a single year, 1920), 
Harold "Wimpy" Wimperly (who held the conference 100-yard dash record of 
9.7 seconds in 1940), and "Ding" Darling (sprinter and low hurdler on the 1923 
track team). And move over, Red Grange. IWU even had its own "Galloping 
Ghost" — Paul Hensel (a 1931 fullback and 1932 trackster who broke the confer- 
ence record in the quarter mile, also called "Butch" and "Old War Horse"). 

It didn't stop there. By all Argus accounts, Wesleyan sports teams had more 
nicknames than early reporters knew what to do with, though none of them 
clicked with The Argus sports department: 

It is generally conceded that the term "Green and White's" is not distin- 
guishing enough and does not call attention to the fact that it IS the 
Wesleyan team. The city papers unfortunately have the habit of calling 
them the "Methodists" which is not in keeping with Wesleyan policies, 
as we do not care to be too definitely distinguished as Methodists. The 
term "Gaws," it is agreed, is unattractive and meaningless. Most of the 
students characterize it as dumb. On the whole, everyone agrees that we 
need a name. (October 29, 1924) 
With that, the newspaper launched its own contest to create a new team name, 
with apoligies that it could not offer "a substantial prize" to the winner. To get 
readers thinking, The Argus reported nicknames already being used by universities: 
"Bear Cats," "Buckeyes," "Scrapers," "Forresters," "Little Giants" and "Bickers." 
While no follow-up story appeared after the plea, the article apparently start- 
ed the thought process for a new nickname — one which did not appear in The 

Chapter 9 Sports 188 

Argus until October 27, 1927, when the paper reported that "With a tie staring 
them in the face at the start of the fourth quarter, the Titans pulled themselves 
together to score the winning touchdown" and defeat Carthage 12-6. The Argus' 
use of the "Titan" nickname came within a week after The Pantagraph respond- 
ed, albeit belatedly, to the call for a more kindly term than "Gaws," and began 
calling them Titans. 

Strangely enough, like The Argus, named for the 100-eyed monster slain by 
the Greek god Hermes, "Titans" also comes from Greek mythology. The Titans, 
twelve children of Uranus and Gaea, were "the Elder gods" and first deities of 
the ancient Greeks, large and powerful figures representing the primitive force of 
nature. After 1929, when sports writers began using Titans as the school's call- 
ing card, the term became a lasting part of Wesleyan sports tradition. 

It is fitting that the Titan nickname came in an era where sports dominated 
The Argus. Richard Finfgeld's 1926 sports page became the model that Argus 
sports editors would follow until World War II, the only difference between 
Finfgeld and future sports editors being an occasional expansion of his ideas. 
Player photographs and previews of opponents increased, and batting averages, 
box scores, schedules, shooting percentages and other statistics accompanied 
both varsity and intramural stories. 

As The Argus sports pages gained prominence in the late 1920s, so did the 
basketball team, which produced four Little Nineteen championships between 
1925 and 1929. It is in following the success of coach Wally Roettger's "Green 
and White Cage Five" that Argus sports writers began to write with less "rah- 
rah" than previous reporters. In 1929, Wesleyan pounded Lincoln College 42- 
26, but the story graciously added an early version of Yogi Berra's "it ain't over 
till it's over" maxim: 

The score cannot tell the anxiety that was felt in the Methodist section 
when through some uncanny basket shooting by Conner in the second 
half, the Railsplitters crept to within 10 points of the local quintet before 
the Green had scored a single point. No hardwood game is in the bag 
until the final whistle. (January 16, 1929) 
Some sports writers followed so many Little Nineteen games that they confi- 
dently named conference all-star teams. The Argus also selected many intramur- 
al all-star teams for both men and women from 1927 to 1936. 

Tony Blazine ('35), a defensive tackle and offensive lineman for the Titan 
gridders, received mention on all Argus all-star teams. With Blazine anchoring 
both lines, Wesleyan finished first in the Little Nineteen his sophomore, junior 
and senior years, and battled "Big 10" power Michigan State in a 20-12 loss in 
1933: "Playing an alert, fighting brand of ball the Green and White pushed over 
two touchdowns and were leading 12 to as the half ended. Michigan State 
came back in the third quarter, and finished with too much power for Wesleyan 
to cope with" (October 18, 1933). (Incidentally, an 18-0 loss to Michigan State 
in 1938 was the Titans' final game against any Big Ten conference school.) 

Chapter 9 Sports 189 

As a senior, Blazine earned first-team honors on the Associated Press minor 
college squad and an honorable mention on the all-college AP All-American 
team. Blazine still holds the record for most minutes played in a college all-star 
game — a record set when he anchored both lines for 57 minutes at Soldier Field 
in 1935. He went on to play professionally with the Chicago Cardinals. 

Anecdotal sports columns also continued to evolve under such "headers" as 
"Burrow's Brays," "Bud's Bingle," "Cork's Corner," "Titan Tales" and "Sport 
Topics," the latter of which author John N. Langham ('30) declared to be "main- 
ly about nothing; read it at your own risk." The 1930s and early 1940s also saw 
extensive coverage of Wesley an' s minor sports (cross country, swimming, track, 
golf and tennis). In 1931, The Argus even added a women's sports editor, Eloise 
Birney ('32), to cover the increasing number of women's intramural contests. 
And from 1931-46, ten different women's sports editors assumed the duty of 
writing one five- to 10-inch story which described weekly highlights in W.A.A. 
field hockey, basketball, volleyball, baseball, tennis and swimming. Since 
women's sports stories did not focus on individual games, they tended to be as 
dull as a weather report: 

The Class Basket Ball Championship was awarded to the Junior-Senior 
team when they again defeated their Freshmen rivals Saturday morning 
by a score of 13-18 in their own favor. They have been running a close 
race with the Freshmen for the championship, but when they defeated 
them Saturday morning, they were awarded a clear title to the 
Championship on the grounds that they have won four of their five 
games played. (November 28, 1934.) 
In 1936, under the direction of coach Harry Bell, the Titan cagers won the 
Little Nineteen with a 20-0 record — Wesley an 's only undefeated basketball team 
in school history. That year's captain and most valuable player, a young 
"blonde from Grayslake" by the name of Jack Horenberger, "proved to be an 
inspiration to his team," according to The Argus. "His steady work at guard ral- 
lied the boys in many situations, and he was a constant threat as a scorer. His 
worth was recognized by officials and pressmen, as he was named the outstand- 
ing guard of the conference in the United Press all-star selections" (March 4, 1936). 
Horenberger, who also excelled as the baseball team's shortstop, returned to 
IWU in 1942 as head basketball and baseball coach, and began as athletic direc- 
tor in 1947. In 1965, he turned over the Titan basketball program to his protege, 
Dennie Bridges ('61). Bridges, a four-year letterman in basketball (at guard) and 
baseball (at shortstop) and a three-year letterman in football (at quarterback), has 
built a 487-283 record in 28 years of coaching. He became athletic director in 
1981 when Horenberger retired. 

One of the radio announcers that called Horenberger 's name in some of the 
Titans' 20 basketball triumphs in 1936 was none other than Baseball Hall of 
Fame announcer Jack Brickhouse. An interview which appeared in the 
September 25, 1992 Argus revealed that Brickhouse started his legendary play- 
by-play career covering Little Nineteen conference football, basketball and base- 

Chapter 9 Sports 190 

Basketball most valuable player and captain 
Dennie Bridges was also the gridders' regular quar- 
terback (1961). 

ball games for Peoria's 
WMBD-Radio from 1935- 
39. In fact, Brickhouse's 
famous "Back, back . . . 
HEY, HEY!" Cubs' home 
run call may have been test- 
ed at Wesleyan long before 
it made its way to the 
friendly confines of 
Wrigley Field. 

What's more, Brick- 
house told The Argus that 
he and Illinois Wesleyan 
were involved in a contro- 
versy that led to what may 
have been the first broad- 
casting fee in media history. 
In 1939, the university fired 
coach Bell, who had built a 
four-year 20-13-3 record in 
football and 51-31 record in 

basketball. Brickhouse, who knew Bell as his own coach at Peoria Manual High 
School, felt Bell was getting fired because "he was getting some bad press," not 
because he was doing a bad job. 

Bell did receive some bad press. The February 13, 1939 Pantagraph ran a 
story headlined "Campus Buzzes As Bell Leaves Regulars Behind," which failed 
to include Bell's reasons for suspending five basketball players before a road 
game with DePaul University. Instead, the article focused on negative comments 
from those players he left behind. Brickhouse took offense. 

"I was in my 'young Turk' days at the time," he said. "On the air, I made a 
comment that 'a school shouldn't fire a coach because a sports editor says so.'" 
And when that sports editor was the legendary Fred Young, the university, and 
all of central Illinois for that matter, did not appreciate Brickhouse's comments. 

"The administration was tired of all the bad circumstances surrounding the 
firing, and they weren't going to let Brickhouse broadcast another Wesleyan 
game ever again," said Horenberger. The issue was so touchy, in fact, that The 
Argus reported Bell's dismissal without giving any reason for it. 

Before the situation escalated out of control, Brickhouse met with WMBD 
and Wesleyan President Wiley G. Brooks to settle their differences before 
Brickhouse was to broadcast the Bradley-Wesleyan basketball game. "As a 
peace offering at the meeting, WMBD donated $25 to the Wesleyan Athletic 
Fund so I could continue broadcasting the games. Everybody settled their differ- 
ences, and I called the game later on that day. As far as I know, it's the first 
broadcasting fee in history," Brickhouse said. 

Chapter 9 Sports 191 

Most athletes at that time would agree that the school needed the $25. In the 
early years of Illinois Wesleyan sports, money was scarce and finding a place to 
play was often tougher than the games themselves. Although the university pur- 
chased Wilder Field (named for then-President William H. Wilder) in 1893 with 
$500 in student contributions and some of Wilder's own money, according to 
Watson's Illinois Wesleyan Story and Pantagraph reports, it wasn't until 1937 
that fans were able to watch athletic events in relative comfort. In that year, 
IWU, the Bloomington Association of Commerce and several city athletic asso- 
ciations sponsored the groundbreaking of a new stadium to be constructed with 
Works Progress Administration funds. Although the WPA, a New Deal agency, 
had not yet totally completed the stadium's main grandstand and locker rooms 
for the 1938 season, "it was used Saturday in a Varsity Frosh scrimmage and the 
playing field was found satisfactory enough to warrant using it for the 
Carbondale game," according to the September 20, 1938 Argus. That weekend, 
Wesleyan's Titans crushed Southern Illinois-Carbondale 19-0, and by 1941 the 
3,500-seat "Bloomington Community Stadium" was finally completed at a cost 
of $200,000. Bloomington Community Stadium changed its name to "Wesleyan 
Stadium" in the early 1970s, when the university gained the title to the structure. 
The athletic department installed lights for night games in 1949, but removed 
them in 1973 for fear that the posts might blow over. And with Homecoming 
and Dad's Day games being played during the day, the university wasn't generat- 
ing extra revenue by playing at night, according to Horenberger. 

A Break in the Action, Followed by a Bowl Game 

Two years after the United States entered World War II and patriotism called 

able-bodied men into service, The 
Argus moved football game stories — 
which had consistently appeared on the 
front page since 1904 — to the inside 
pages. But war did not halt all intercol- 
legiate sports at IWU, thanks to a batch 
of burly Navy pilot cadets who partici- 
pated in intercollegiate sports as part of 
their training. The biggest problem 
turned out to be coaching. In 1943, The 
Argus reported that head football coach 
Van F. Howe and assistant Jack 
Horenberger both accepted Naval com- 
missions, but Wesleyan was lucky to 
enlist the aid of Cecil Russell, who led 
the cadets to a 2-4-1 record with wins 
over Western Illinois and Indiana State. 
The war had many far-reaching 
effects. In the case of journalism at 


Field hockey in front of Memorial 
Gymnasium (date unknown). 

Chapter 9 Sports 192 

Illinois Wesleyan's CCI and CCIW Championships, 


\ Football: 1948, 1951, 1964, 1965, 1974, 1977, 1980, 1992 

Basketball: 1949, 1954, 1960, 1961, 1962, 1964, 1965, 1966, 1967, 
1975, 1976, 1977, 1982, 1984, 1986, 1988, 1991, 1992 

1970, 1971, 

Baseball: 1948, 1949, 1952, 1954, 1956, 1957, 1958, 1959, 1960, 

1962, 1963, 

1967, 1969, 1970, 1977, 1978, 1989 

Golf: 1959, 1960, 1968, 1977 

Tennis: 1963, 1964 

! Softball: 1991 

Volleyball: 1991 

1 Women's Tennis: 1992 

IWU, it profoundly affected sports coverage. Even when athletes returned to 
campus after V-J Day, sports stories would never again run on page one, except 
for conference championships, postseason tournaments and well-publicized 
grudge matches with Illinois State University. 

While coverage of organized sports was scaled back because of the war, 
men's intramural coverage virtually dropped out of the newspaper. Only 112 of 
Wesleyan's 436 students in 1943 were male, so men who participated in athletics 
did so on the varsity level, and intramurals fell by the wayside. Women's intra- 
murals also declined during the war with field hockey, basketball and volleyball 
being the only W.A.A. sponsored intramural sports receiving sparse coverage in 
The Argus. However, Maurita Rodgers ('46), 1943-44 women's sports editor, 
wrote, "The girls devote themselves wholeheartedly to these sports, which makes 
up entirely for the greater number of sports played in the past" (April 19,1944). 

The declining state of the intramural program finally caused the entire edito- 
rial board to sound off on April 26, 1950: 

The campus organizations have howled for a better intramural program 
until they are out of breath, and what has happened? Exactly nothing. 
Then, The Argus thought that maybe too much griping was being done, 
and tried to give a little pat on the back. And what happened again? 
Exactly nothing. Is it the fault of the students? It sure as heck isn't! 
The students have tried, the organizations have tried, and what did they 
get for their efforts? They got more than nothing — they got a perfectly 
lousy intramural program that isn't even worthy of the name. 
Despite the newspaper's call for action, intramurals continued to decline. By 
1952, sports editors reduced most intramural basketball, volleyball, tennis, 

Chapter 9 Sports 193 

swimming and track 
coverage to three- 
paragraph stories 
that told game 
scores and team 
standings. Gone 
were the days of 
detailed game sum- 
maries, box scores 
and all-star teams. 

some of the space 
that intramurals 
once filled were 
pictures of the 
Terrapins, Wesley- 
an's mostly-female 
synchronized swimming club. Organized in 1930s, the Terrapins' annual swim 
shows were popular action shot photographs for sports photos (especially when 
the photo editor was male) until the club disbanded in 1983. 

Despite the decline of intramurals in the postwar period, varsity sports 
rebounded to their glory days in The Argus, largely thanks to the birth of the 
College Conference of Illinois in 1946. Charter members included Augustana, 
Carthage (then in Carthage, Illinois), Elmhurst, Illinois College, IWU, James 
Millikin, Lake Forest, North Central and Wheaton. With only nine conference 
schools, as opposed to the 21 who competed in the Little Nineteen, the odds of 
winning a CCI title were much greater. Wesleyan proved this by winning foot- 
ball and baseball championships as early as 1948 and a basketball crown in 
1949. The Titans fittingly sealed their first CCI football championship with a 
victory over Millikin, the same school they defeated for the mythical 1910 state 
championship. This time, however, The Argus paid attention to the game, not 
the goat: 

Looking like the Green and White wave of old, the Titans Saturday 

rolled over Millikin, 27-6, in a game which presented the Knights of 

Green with the CCI title. The northsiders' performance was outstanding 

as they chalked up their fifth win against no losses in Little Nine play. 

(November 17, 1948) 

In 1967, The CCI became the College Conference of Illinois and Wisconsin 

to accommodate Carthage's move to Kenosha and the addition of Carroll 

(Waukesha), a member from 1955-1992. In 1994, the league boasts eight 

schools — Augustana, Carthage, Elmhurst, IWU, Millikin, North Central, North 

Park (since 1962) and Wheaton. 

The postwar era brought improved graphics and regular sports "action 
shots," which eliminated posed photographs and made the entire section more 

Chapter 9 Sports 194 

exciting and realistic. Sports writing techniques also improved. For the first 
time, Argus sports journalists wrote leads that laid out a plan for their stories, 
much like a thesis statement does for an essay. Consider the lead for this 1948 
football preview: 

When Wesleyan hits the gridiron for the first time this season at Upper 
Alton against Shurtleff, Sept. 25, conjectures will get their first look at 
the highly touted Titan line and a question mark backfield. But one 
thing is almost a certainty — the Green and White will be a much 
improved ball club. (September 17, 1948) 
Although the 1948 football preview writer did not attribute his prognosis for 
"improvement" to a particular player or coach, it turned out to be prophetic. 
Coach "Bustem" Morrow's Titans, who had logged a disappointing 3-5-1 record 
in 1947, won the CCI in 1948 with a 6-0 mark and earned a bid to the Second 
Louis E. Davis Post 56 American Legion Corn Bowl Game. Since it was 
designed to pit the CCI winner against the Illinois Intercollegiate Athletic 
Association champs (which The Argus declared the two best small-college con- 
ferences in the state in a November 24, 1948 Corn Bowl preview), it was played 
at Bloomington County Stadium on Thanksgiving Day — in the heart of corn 
country. The Corn Bowl even had a parade witnessed by some 30,000 people, 
according to its program. 

But The Argus was not too optimistic about the Green and White's chances 
for victory in its preview. The newspaper dubbed IIAC champion Eastern 
Illinois the best small college football squad in the Midwest, and pointed out that 
the Panthers downed Illinois State Normal in the regular season, while ISNU 
had ransacked the Titans 32-6 just a week prior to the Corn Bowl. The headline 
"Panthers Sure of Easy Victory" said it all. So much for "Tolly, Balolly, Baloo." 
But The Argus happily ate its words on December 1 with this front page 
headline: "Titans are Corn Bowl Champs." After Gib Baechler ('51) plunged 
one yard to give Wesleyan a 6-0 lead with 1 :06 remaining in the game, a crowd 
of more than 8,500 erupted: "They blinked their eyes — amazed, dumfounded, 
and with unbelieving expressions on their faces — unable to comprehend fully 
what had happened," wrote The Argus, which called the Corn Bowl "one of the 
most unforgettable games in Titan history." Fullback Don "Swede" Larson, who 
earned Most Valuable Player honors in 1948, would later post a 166-121-6 mark 
as Titan head coach from 1954-86. 

In 1950, the newspaper enthusiastically created and sponsored the "Argus 
Award" — a 10-year traveling trophy presented to the basketball team's most 
valuable player after each season. Fran Sommers ('50) took home the first 
award, but must never have brought it back, for it received no mention in the 
newspaper ever again. 

From such front-page glory, IWU sports sunk, for a time, into gentle obliv- 
ion. In the 1950s, the campus grew so used to winning teams that sports cover- 
age dwindled to four-inch summaries, with box scores and statistics no longer 
included. Even though five straight CCI baseball championships from 1956-60 

Chapter 9 Sports 195 

remains a Wesleyan record, none of them aroused any excitement among The 
Argus sports staff. When Wesleyan won the title in 1956, The Argus ran only a 
two-paragraph story. The headline for the fifth title on May 20, 1960 read, 
"Wesleyan Baseball Champ; Titans Top Elmhurst, Millikin." The lead reported 
that "Illinois Wesleyan, streaking to its fifth straight CCI baseball championship, 
polished off Millikin, its chief contender, twice in a home and home series 
Thursday, May 12, and Tuesday, May 17." Had the Titans taken five titles dur- 
ing the 1930s, The Argus probably would have devoted an entire issue to the 
accomplishment. By 1960, the sports staff didn't even run a picture. Even when 
the baseball team defeated larger schools like Illinois, Northwestern, Purdue and 
Notre Dame, The Argus seemed to expect victory. 

When Wesleyan's basketball team earned trips to the National Association of 
Intercollegiate Athletics Tournament at Kansas City in 1961, 1966, 1970-1971 
and 1975-1977, the student body found renewed interest. Only 32 teams quali- 
fied for the tournament when IWU participated, so just being there was an honor, 
and The Argus recognized this by running most NAIA tourney stories on the 
front page. As 1977 sports editor Wayne Richards ('79) put it, "The Kansas City 
Experience. It can't be described in one word, nor is it always a week filled with 
too many events to count. . . . [A]s long as your team wins you get to stay in the 
magical city." The university even became so excited that it sponsored pep ral- 
lies and canceled classes so students could road-trip to "KC." Unfortunately 
for the students, that practice ended in 1972 with a double disappointment. In 
addition to Wesleyan not qualifying for the NAIA tourney, the university 
announced that classes would no longer be canceled for future Kansas City trips. 
The sports staff protested the decision to no avail. 

Another NAIA competition that received top billing in the March 26, 1965 
Argus was the national diving championships in LaCrosse, Wisconsin, where 
IWU's own Marty Spaulding ('67) finished in second place out of more than 40 
divers. The Argus reported that Spaulding led throughout most of the competi- 
tion but was nosed out by Union College's Bob Long for the title. Long was a 
former member of the U.S. Navy diving squad, so he was "an experienced diver 
to say the least." Despite Spaulding's success, the university removed swim- 
ming from the varsity level in 1968, re-instating it in 1989. 

The Rivalry 

Long before any major leaguers suited up for the Titans, and even before stu- 
dents organized Wesleyan's first baseball team in 1878, Illinois State and Illinois 
Wesleyan Universities were starting a rivalry that would grow to be among the 
oldest in college sports. On June 19, 1869, The Pantagraph printed an item 
which read, "A match game of Base ball was played yesterday between the 
Wesleyan club, of the Wesleyan university, and the Normal club, of the Normal 
school." It was a five-inning contest "in which the Wesleyans were victorious," 
22-10. No matter who won the grudge matches between Normal and Wesleyan, 
the presence of two competitive university athletic programs has created its share 

Chapter 9 Sports 196 

of excitement and controversy in Bloomington-Normal over the years. 

Prior to 1964, the official name for Illinois State University was Illinois State 
Normal University, with "Normal" being the school's calling card. (During the 
1920s, The Argus preferred to call it "the suburban school.") Between the 1940s 
and 1970, The Argus reported that ISU students spray-painted red "N's" on 
Wesleyan's football field before the yearly match-up. (Incidentally, Wesleyan 
terminated the football series in 1969 because its enrollment and athletic pro- 
grams did not grow at the same rate as ISU's.) IWU students did not behave like 
angels either. Many spray-painted green "W's" all over ISU's campus and 
would steal Illinois State's treasured victory bell for use at pep rallies. 

Don Ray craft, an Argus staff writer and sports editor from 1960 to 1962, 
seized the opportunity of seeing the rivalry from both sides of the fence. In the 
summer of 1962, he received a phone call from the editor of the Illinois State 
Normal Vidette, who asked him to "switch hit" and become the rival newspaper's 
sports editor. 

"Fine," replied Raycraft. And so began one of the weirdest transitions any 
college sports editor in the nation could undergo. 

"I look back on it now and it was really an odd thing, but, at the time, it 
didn't phase me," said Raycraft, who lived at home and didn't have to worry 
about room and board. "Wesleyan never had a more difficult rivalry than with 
Normal. Students from Wesleyan used to come to ISU in their bathrobes and 
spray-paint the walls of the dorms and ISU students would come to Wesleyan 
and return the favor." 

Occasionally, the college pranks grew out of control. The November 21, 
1958 Argus abruptly reported that, "Last week's brawl at the football game 
ruined 59 minutes of clean hard play. . . .We're hoping that in the future team 
members and students of both schools will think twice before displaying 
unsportsmanlike conduct." 

When Wesleyan students stole the bell before the final football game in 
1969, The Argus later reported, "Illinois State's treasured victory bell tolled at 
Wesleyan's pep rally Friday night 24 hours before ISU got to ring it" September 
26, 1969 in a 27-6 victory. The win gave the Redbirds a 36-35-7 edge in the 
series which dated back to April 1887. At the time, the series was the tenth-old- 
est grid rivalry in the nation, according to The Argus. 

The basketball rivalry was a different story. Wesleyan held a comfortable 
68-42 series lead going into the final game in January 1970, but still wanted to 
win to prove to the "Birdies" that it could compete with larger colleges. An 
August 22, 1969 "Spectator" column offered reasons why the series, which ISU 
asked to terminate, should have been continued: 

A top-flight football team requires many hands and minds. A large 
school such as ISU has, through its expansion, put itself into a higher 
class of gridiron powers. . . . Basketball, unlike football, requires only a 
few talented individuals, and it has been proven that small schools can 

Chapter 9 Sports 197 

Chapter 9 Sports 198 

outclass the supersized megauniversities. . . . The only reason for the 
change seems to be a deflated ego on the part of ISU. 
The final game turned out to be even more exciting than the 1948 Corn Bowl. 
Argus sports editor Howie Elliot ('71) reported that ISU's Horton Fieldhouse 
was packed to the rafters, and offered this play-by-play account: 

Until the last 40 seconds, the Titan cagers had not been ahead since the 
first five minutes of the first half. . . . After an ISU over and back call, 
Wesleyan worked for the right shot. . . . After a jump ball [ISU's Greg] 
Guy fouled Josh Gibson and Gibson gave the Titans a 68-67 lead with 
40 seconds remaining. (January 16, 1970) 
That was only the beginning of the drama. ISU took a 68-67 lead with seven 
seconds remaining and coach Bridges called his final time out of the game. 
During the time-out, he told Gibson to throw the inbound pass to either Stan 
Boer or Tom Gramkow and for Sheldon Thompson and Fred Evans to rebound. 
Gramkow drove in and shot. With about a second and-a-half remaining, 
the ball swished through the basket to give the Titans a 69-68 victory. 
The entire Wesleyan crowd mobbed onto the court. . . . Regarding 
Gramkow's performance, Bridges said after the game, "Gramkow's my son." 
Photography editor Dave Breen's 072) photograph of Gramkow's shot swishing 
through the net not only made the front page of The Argus, but also was distrib- 
uted and sold as a poster in cooperation with Gummerman Printing. A copy of 
the poster still hangs in Bridges' office — a fitting reminder of one of Wesleyan 's 
most celebrated triumphs. 

Kindred's Korner: The Beginning of a Big League Career 

As Wesleyan's teams were prepping a few of their players for professional 
sports careers, The Argus provided "minor league" experience for some who 
went on to careers in sports writing. Dave Kindred ('63), who served as sports 
editor and associate editor of The Argus, became a contributing editor and regu- 
lar columnist for The Sporting News. Kindred was the first modern sports 
columnist in Argus history. Unlike the anecdotal columnists of the past, Kindred 
chose a single theme, developed a thesis and delivered an entertaining opinion 
on a certain subject. He wrote not only about Wesleyan athletics, but also about 
the national sports scene and Wesleyan's relation to it. So successful was his 
format that it provided a model for 1963 Argus writer Jim Bennett ('64), whose 
weekly column, "The Spectator," continued to observe athletic events in The 
Argus until 1975. 

Kindred also was one of few people who can say that his love of newspapers 
and ability to write allowed him to attend Illinois Wesleyan University for free. 
In his day, The Pantagraph selected one incoming freshman with journalistic 
potential as recipient of The Pantagraph Newspaper Scholarship, which paid for 
half the student's tuition. The Pantagraph picked up the other half if the student 
agreed to work for the newspaper. Kindred, an Atlanta, Illinois, native, couldn't 
pass up the offer. 

Chapter 9 Sports 199 

In what little spare time he had left after working for Bloomington's daily 
and Wesleyan's weekly, Kindred put down the pen and picked up the bat and 
glove as a four-year baseball letterman. With Kindred on the mound and at sec- 
ond base, the Titans earned three CCI titles and a second-place finish between 
1960 to 1963. 

In the midst of all this activity, "I even went to school sometimes," said 
Kindred. "I just kept working and working. The only memories I have of The 
Argus were constantly being in the office and writing that stupid column." 

That stupid column, "Kindred's Korner," turned out to be a step on the lad- 
der to Kindred's lucrative career as a journalist and sports columnist. Today, 
thousands read his columns on a regular basis in The Sporting News and also 
read his articles in Golf magazine, for which he is a contributing editor. He has 
written three sports books, including a collection of his columns entitled Heroes, 
Fools and Other Dreams. He said his proudest moment came in 1991 when he 
was the eleventh and youngest person ever to win the Red Smith Award, which 
is awarded yearly by the Sports Editors of America for lifetime sports writing 

The following "Kindred's Korner" creatively personified Memorial Gym's 
reaction to the news of a new indoor fieldhouse. Ironically, Memorial's succes- 
sor, Fred Young Fieldhouse, which was dedicated in 1962, will be replaced by 
the Shirk Athletic Center in 1994. When reading, note how the column weaves 
fact with fantasy and gives Kindred's own opinion of the new fieldhouse. The 
gym's wish at the end for Wesleyan to come up with a good basketball team "for 
a change" might surprise some readers, but in the four seasons prior to this col- 
umn, the Titans' combined record was 30-57. 

Memorial Feeling the Strain of Years 

(Dave Kindred, The Argus, October 21, 1960) 

Illinois Wesleyan's Memorial Gymnasium slammed its doors against the 
numbing wind, put out the lights, and heaved a sigh of relief. 

Another Titan basketball season was over, and the gym's weary boards could 
get a little rest. 

"After all," it thought, "I've been around here a long time. Ya know, it's a 
good thing they're retiring me in a couple years, because I couldn't take much 
more of this pounding." 

But the gymnasium still has two more seasons of "pounding" before its ath- 
letic burden is lightened by a glittering fieldhouse. 

The fieldhouse, now occupied by Illinois Agricultural Association offices, 
should be ready for the 1961-62 basketball season. 

"And it couldn't come at a better time," says Memorial. "It was getting so 
the players were too big for me. The visiting teams never really liked me, and 
everybody griped because I was so little and so old." 

But not everyone disliked Memorial's cozy confines. Titan cage coach Jack 
Horenberger says, "It was a nice home floor." 

Chapter 9 Sports 200 

Does he regret leaving it? "Not a bit," the veteran mentor says. He is anx- 
iously awaiting the day when the Green and White forces can move into the 
modernistic fieldhouse. 

Although the red-hot rivalries of varsity basketball will be taken from 
Memorial, the gymnasium will not be without its chores. 

While the ghosts of former Wesleyan greats relax in the balcony of the gym, 
IWU co-eds will cavort in physical education classes. 

Swimming classes will stay in Memorial also, unless a new pool is built into 
the fieldhouse. 

There will be four other changes when the athletic spotlight shifts from 
Memorial to the unnamed fieldhouse: 

1. Men's physical education classes will be moved into the new building. 

2. All-school convocations will be re-located. 

3. Bleachers will be removed from Memorial. 

4. And wrestling will rejoin the IWU varsity program. 

But, as is true of old women, most of the interesting things about Memorial 
concern its past. 

Born in complete agreement of the faculty and athletic department, the gym- 
nasium, dedicated to those IWU students who died in World War I, was ready for 
use by June of 1922. 

The Irish of Notre Dame were guests at a dedicatory game that winter. 

Byron Wimberly was the athletic director then. The beginning of his tenure 
marked a change in the policy and leadership of Wesleyan athletic programs. 

Perhaps the change had been brought about by the appointment of Rev. 
William J. Davidson as president of the University. Davidson had been an ath- 
lete, his favorite sports being baseball and boxing. 

And now the aging gymnasium, its eyes glittering as it looks to a future of 
ease, is girding its colonial structures for another season of basketball. 

Memorial says, "Ya know what I'd like? I'd like Wesleyan to come up with 
a good basketball team for a change. 

"I don't get nearly so stiff when the Titans win. But all those losses lately 
really hurt me." 

The Professionals 

Quite a few Titans eventually moved beyond the sports pages of Wesleyan 's 
Argus. One such player, who played a key role when the Titans swept a double- 
header against Notre Dame in 1951, was third basemen Bobby "Ace" Winkles 
('52), who hit .400 and led the team in home runs, triples, hits, runs batted in and 
total bases. When Winkles told the newspaper his freshman year that he hoped 
to play professional baseball, some readers may have chuckled, especially 
because he made the comment during a basketball preview. (At 5' 8", Ace was 
one of the Titans' speediest guards.) Winkles' dream came true after his junior 
year, when he signed as a shortstop with a Chicago White Sox minor league 
club. During the off-seasons, he earned a master's degree in physical education 

Chapter 9 Sports 201 

and became the head baseball coach at Arizona State University. After building 
a 524-173 record at ASU, he went on to manage for the California Angels and 
Oakland Athletics. 

When it comes to major league baseball, Doug Rader ('66) might be 
Wesleyan's most famous graduate. "A special gleam comes to Horenberger's 
eyes when discussing Rader," wrote Jim Bennett: 

Rader, from Glenbrook, stands 6-2 and weighs 190, but handles the 

shortstop chores with the deftness of a man much smaller. . . . "What I 

especially like about him at the plate is his attitude," Horenberger said. 

"He can look bad on a certain pitch, but he turns around and fights you 

on the next pitch. He's a real competitor." (May 10, 1963) 

After leading the Titans to a CCI title in 1963 and a second-place finish in 1964, 

Rader, a gold glove third baseman and a .25 1 lifetime hitter in 1 1 major league 

seasons, played for the Houston Astros, San Diego Padres and Toronto Blue 

Jays, and later managed the Texas Rangers, Chicago White Sox and California 

Angels. He hooked on as hitting coach for the expansion Florida Marlins in 1993. 

Other Titans who moved beyond the pages of The Argus to enjoy big league 

careers include Bill Conroy, who caught for the Boston Red Sox for five years 

during the 1940s, and Cal Neeman ('51), who played one year of basketball and 

two years of baseball for the Chicago Cubs, Pittsburgh Pirates and the 

Philadelphia Phillies. The Chicago Cubs signed Dick Burwell after his freshman 

year in 1961 with $58,000 bonus, but he never played in the majors. The Argus 

also followed the college careers of eventual minor league players, including 

pitchers Harry Grubb ('44), Eddie Moore ('79), Mike McNeely ('85) and Brett 

Robinson ('87), and catchers Dean Graff ('44) and Mike Brown ('94). 

As for IWU's most celebrated sports alumnus, the May 11, 1973 Argus 
reported that "One of the most sought after basketball prospects in Illinois this 
year was a visitor on the Illinois Wesleyan campus this weekend," and declared 
that "Six-foot eight-inch Jack Sikma of St. Anne High School could prove to be 
the much needed big man in the Titan basketball program." 

Little did The Argus know that the 6' 8" Sikma ('77) would become a T NBA 
all-star and the biggest "big man" in Titan sports history. As a high school 
senior, the St. Anne sensation was chased by Division I colleges like Purdue, 
Indiana State and the University of Illinois, but Wesleyan caught him largely 
because Coach Bridges was the first coach to recruit him and, at 6' 8", Sikma 
wanted to make an immediate impact as a big man, according to The Argus. 
Even in a disappointing 67-65 loss to Augustana during Sikma's freshman year, 
sports editor Pat Cooper ('74) noticed the lanky blonde's ability to both score 
and play defense: 

The first half was all Augie and all Jack Sikma for the first 15 minutes. 
Sikma was all over Augie center Bruce Hamming as the 6-10 freshman 
literally ate Hamming (a pre-season All-American) up. Big Jack held 
the leading scorer of the Vikings to 22 points, but the 6- 1 1 Hamming 
made only 9 of 24 shots from the field. . . . Sikma (21 points, 12 

Chapter 9 Sports 202 

rebounds) was outstanding until he got in foul trouble with six minutes 
left in the game. (January 11, 1974) 
After Wesleyan posted a 12-12 mark during his freshman year, Sikma led the 
Titans to 71 wins, three CCIW titles and three NAIA tournament berths in his 
next three seasons. Joining 
Sikma for his junior and 
senior years was Kansas 
State transfer Jim Molinari 
('77), who would go on to 
serve as an assistant to 
DePaul coach Ray Meyer 
and eventually become 
head basketball coach at 
Northern Illinois and 
Bradley. With both 
Molinari and Sikma, the 
NAIA seeded Wesleyan 
No. 2 in the 1977 Kansas 
City "dance," but the Titans 
fell short of a national 
championship, losing to 
Henderson State 

(Arkansas) 87-73 in the 
quarterfinals. Sikma fin- 
ished his career as 
Wesleyan's leading scorer 
(2,272 points for a 21.2 
average) and rebounder 
(1,405 for a 13.1 average). 

After graduation, 
Sikma took time out from 
his busy NBA schedule in 
February, 1978 to have his 
No. 44 jersey retired at 
Fred Young Fieldhouse. 
"A lot of guys who play in college never get the chance to play in the NBA," 
Sikma told The Argus. "You play 82 games, three times as many as in a college 
season, and you have got to be able to take the pounding." 

Sikma was voted to the 1978 NBA all-rookie team and earned an NBA 
championship ring in his second season with the Seattle Supersonics. In his 14- 
year career with the Sonics and Milwaukee Bucks, Sikma tallied 17,287 points 
and 10,816 rebounds in 1,107 games. He ranks 38th among all-time NBA scor- 
ing leaders, ahead of Magic Johnson and Hall of Famers Bob Cousy and Billy 

Jack Sikma slams one home. Sikma was one of 
50 candiates (and one of four from the NAIA) to try 
out for the 1976 United States Olympic basketball 
team under North Corlina coach Dean Smith. 

Chapter 9 Sports 203 

Cunningham. With statistics like that, it's no shock that Sikma's name and pic- 
ture continued to appear in The Argus any time he was even remotely close to 
B loomington-Normal . 

Changes in Attitude, Changes in Lattitude 

Like the front page of the 1960s and early 1970s, the sports section often 
reflected the spirit of social change. In 1969, when Bill Russell, a former NBA 
player-coach and the first black person to manage a team on a full-time basis in 
any major league sport, addressed the Wesleyan campus, sports editor Tom 
Wetzel covered the speech for the May 30, 1969 issue. Under the headline "Up 
For Glory," Wetzel wrote that "A horde of young kids and sports buffs had come 
to see a great sports figure, Bill Russell, Thursday at the fieldhouse and to hear 
him speak on sports, but Russell had something else in mind." Instead of talking 
about sports, Russell discussed "the moral and social aspects of racism, the war 
in Vietnam and the great potential of the United States." The former Boston 
Celtic told IWU students that "People are not products. People are people. If 
you look at me and say I'm black and do not say anything else, then you have 
cheated me. . . .We have got to change the system. It must be attacked if we are 
to survive." Russell's remarks made it clear to the Wesleyan community that the 
Civil Rights Movement was more than slogans or politics; it was a way of deal- 
ing with people on a daily basis in all aspects of life — sports included. 

Another sixties anomaly — long hair — made the sports pages on April 16, 
1971, when a "Spectator" column (author unknown) criticized tennis coach 
Dennie Bridges for suspending two players until they found a barber. Although 
the Spectator didn't "necessarily approve of long hair," the writer did try to sar- 
castically find a correlation between long hair and athletic performance: 

A person who is constantly brushing hair from his eyes will, indeed, not 
perform to his highest potentialities. . . . [But] our tennis coach also 
seems to have overlooked one alternative entirely. As has happened for 
countless years, scientific technology comes to the rescue with an inge- 
nious little discovery called a headband. This handy little gadget, which 
slips around the human head, permits the wearer to engage in very active 
pursuits without impairing the vision. 
The Spectator also argued that one's hair is one's own business and "like all per- 
sonal matters, deserves a personal decision." If the athletic department wanted 
to cut athletes' hair, it also would have to "ban them from fraternity beer parties, 
throw away their cigarettes and ban them for abusive language," which were 
"much more detrimental to the school's public image and appearance" than a 
couple of shaggy tennis players. In other 1970-71 columns, the Spectator ques- 
tioned Wesleyan's recruiting policies, physical education program — even the 

As the sports section tackled more controversial issues, the quality of writing 
improved immensely. Sentences and paragraphs became much shorter and writ- 

Chapter 9 Sports 204 

ers now quoted players and coaches instead of making statements without attri- 
bution. Not only did this make stories more accurate, but it also took readers 
inside the locker room for details and opinions they couldn't get from the stands. 

Although Sikma may have been the sports section's primary focus from 
1974 to 1977, women's varsity tennis and basketball started to see extensive cov- 
erage in The Argus during those years. When the Lady Titan cagers logged a 13- 
4 record in just their third season, The Argus reported nearly every home game. 
The newspaper also played a role in voicing women's gripes about athletic fund- 
ing. In 1974, the athletic department added volleyball to its list of women's var- 
sity sports, but women's sports director and basketball coach Linda Cotter still 
felt IWU lagged behind other women's sports programs, according to a February 
22, 1 974 Argus story: 

From a survey sent out to other Illinois and midwestern schools of com- 
parable size, Ms. Cotter has found out that, "financially we're below the 
average of most schools, and in a number of sports we're not the lowest, 
but we're close to it." 
The university set out to rectify the situation by providing increased funding and 
adding two more varsity sports — softball and track — in 1977. The university 
also joined the Association of Intercollegiate Athletics for Women so that Lady 
Titan teams could compete on the national level. 

More athletic history was made in 1977, when Illinois Wesleyan joined 
Division III of the National Collegiate Athletic Association. Established in 
1974, Division III remains a perfect fit for Wesleyan, because member schools 
do not give athletic scholarships, and most are small, private institutions. 
Although many may think the decision to join the NCAA made front-page head- 
lines, The Argus ran only a short six-inch story on the sports page, probably 
because the university maintained membership in both the NCAA and NAIA 
(competing in the NAIA in basketball until 1982-83). In 1982, women's sports 
abandoned the AIAW for Division III, and a women's CCIW was established in 
1984. The basketball team has competed in the Division III playoffs in 1984, 
1986-1988 and 1990-1992, while the baseball team competed in 1978 and 1989. 
The volleyball and football teams made individual appearances in 1991 and 
1992, respectively. Individually, IWU athletes also have participated in the cross 
country, swimming and indoor and outdoor track and field championships. 

In the past five years, the sports section has tried to cover all varsity sports 
on the back two pages of the paper, but the task has grown exponentially difficult 
with the establishment of more varsity and club sports. (A club sport is one 
where the university and students share the sport's costs. Varsity sports are fund- 
ed solely by the university.) As of 1993, the university sponsors nine men's var- 
sity sports — football, soccer (established in 1983), cross country, basketball, 
swimming, baseball, golf, track and tennis — and seven women's varsity sports — 
volleyball, cross country, tennis, basketball, swimming, softball and track. The 
September 17, 1993 Argus reported that women's soccer, although a club team as 

Chapter 9 Sports 205 

Augie and Carthage succumb to Titan superiority 

Vikings fall: 

i i-game 
skid snapped 

Bisaillon breaks 
Rice record 

The team aas* head 

"if (eel« gtwrf. ' Ea*fe saxi 
- • ft s hkt? havsftg ftw sad a hail 

• ,. ■ > ;.: ■.. .;., 
8Ck " 

Wesieyart g*»« off to a <pskk 
sfart <>:« Anthony tkms&mitxtk 
{fee ttftrmm tteiuti 4! yaftt-s t« 
the Aagtwtena 45-yartS Sine 
The Tsta« i<ftomse rt.wtert >''•■< 

,;> ■■'.•'. ■ f »i ' '«;'•- 

had « *«<«. Thetmmst.&ttl- 
<*d bgr-k mt£ terth, but mt&*>t 
4 , i , it srrutiori ibv 

t ti \ia*i ; - Una ( i««i sbt- fwii '*<■<"<> 
srtto I Han 'fr-:h>r: ■& ith a!x».it 
<>.■■ miwSes !<> «« in the tint 

Number 50 . . . Mt^Mi^M 

t t»t*te> rreettur <"km BtwstSftm New t aristae <Mr«--iw to 
i<*« it<w«4t to «e Van Fra«eKe«*»r Jerry Hires VA% all-«Svi*S«» i»urh<}w! 
ree<"piM«i ree«rd <t«ri«g the Titan's «S-* raa«»m iasi Saturday . Bisajl!«m add 
t<***me>re Uraejwjottns ■-■- - * r<-* '>rd yf VI .md t *naMm£ I 

i>iai;nrsi,l if; d>> nj« j f>i'in MMiirtet !oi hi-- V:^ < t.l 
ieeuae end '>*«• eek-ttratxm The etght-vani 
i>as.s -tiv> Uavi Ui*skn.,-i*i ,i2]-f» ieati 

"I've been present: mwlf ?<> get thetwand 
,nt-r « itb Bi--;!it!<.!i said A!ter a while the its 
*'. triiaal Koais ae! in tlv « ,i> > •! the Seam s e «,:ls 
J iii dVfmdeH clad it -■ »'.-? 

Ss is WedevaB head fixjthal! ttath Norm 

•Yes. it's a rt-ii*'t that it - nit but our tea.t'i 
has fse*»n ineused <m its own goals thn.iugbrttit all 
the hype," Ka«* said < hjf team was awan? trf 
the weorrt; we just dirie. I ktxrA whe.o tt vn»M 
u.krpia.i - i'» innietrhei I U"i amfgettinaasp".* 
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. ►i.ei'.'i'ii.i Hr. en, ir. >:- ..u;,'-l 

7"/ie catch! (1992): With this grab Chris Bisaillon broke the NCAA all-division career 
touchdown reception record. 

of 1994, will be elevated to varsity status by 1995. A men's volleyball club and 
men's lacrosse club emerged in 1992, joining a co-ed sailing club. With the 
emergence of so many competitive sports, intramural coverage has become a 
thing of the past. 

Bob Warth ('92) had the distinction of reporting a number of great moments 
in recent Wesleyan sports history. In 1990, Warth followed the basketball team's 
22-8 roller coaster ride to the NCAA Division III quarterfinals and Malik Jones' 
('90) Division III indoor national championship in the 55-meter high hurdles. 
He also covered the start of what would eventually become a four-year NCAA 
all-division record for touchdown receptions. Back on November 3, 1989, Warth 
observed that 

Chris Bisaillon has made an immediate impact offensively. He leads the 
team with 33 receptions, 1004 all-purpose yards and 42 points. "We 
knew that Bisaillon was a good football player coming in, and he's 
proved to everyone that he is and much more," [IWU football coach 

Chapter 9 Sports 206 

Norm] Eash said. . . . "We're just going to expect bigger and better 
things each year." 
Eash's quote turned out to be more of an understatement than a sports cliche. 
Bisaillon ('93) gained national notoriety when he broke San Francisco 49er and 
NFL all-pro receiver Jerry Rice's NCAA all-division touchdown-pass reception 
record of 50 catches for a career. Bisaillon broke the record his senior year, fin- 
ishing with 55 receptions. That year, the Titans reached post-season play for the 
first time since the Corn Bowl, won a playoff game and reached the playoff quar- 

Bisaillon's record-breaking performance even prompted a congratulatory 
phone call from Rice, which sports editor Chris Fusco ('94) covered for the 
November 6, 1992 Argus. For a few years, Bisaillon had heard the name Jerry 
Rice a countless number of times, but during the conversation, the tables were 

"I've been reading up on you, man," Rice told Bisaillon in his seven 

minute congratulatory phone call. . . . "You must be working towards 

something really hard to beat. . . . Reporters have come to me asking I've 

heard about this guy who broke my record. I told them if this guy can 

dedicate himself like I did, there's no telling what his potential might be." 

To this, Bisaillon replied: "Why don't you tell your coaches that? I'd be happy 

to meet them." Although Bisaillon never hooked up with an NFL team, he used 

his credentials as the Champion U.S.A. Division III football student-athlete of 

the year and GTE Academic Ail-American to land a job with Van Kampen 

Merritt, a Chicago investment firm. 

Although Wesley an sports and Argus sports coverage have undergone many 
changes over the century, some things have remained the same. Ninety- seven 
years after the Illinois Intercollegiate contest, a sports column by Mike Estwick 
('94) complained about Wesleyan students' lack of school spirit: 

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't mean that the crowd should be loud 
and vociferous every single minute of the game, but the crowd can be 
that extra man on the field. . . . Come on Wesleyland, let's get some 
noise going in the stands at the next home game and show the opposition 
where the you comes from in IWU. 
Some things never change. 

Chapter 10 Mentors 207 



Little is known about early Argus faculty advisers, except that they made 
sure the newspaper "didn't get out of line," according to 1935-36 editor Everett 
Melby. "Outside of that, we didn't see them too often." 

Because of that minimal contact, the newspaper did not even begin keeping a 
record of advisers until 1917, and even that list is incomplete. University cata- 
logues between 1900 and 1917 indicate that a number of professors — including 
Robert Steele (Latin), Robert Graham (chemistry), Francis Marion Austin (Latin 
and Greek), Wilbert T. Ferguson (French, German and Greek), Albeit Farrington 
Caldwell (English) and Charles A. Eggert (French and history) — served on a 
committee that monitored campus publications. The Argus reported that English 
department head Pearl Cliffe Somerville served as adviser from 1917-23 and 
speech instructor James J. Fiderlick advised the newspaper in 1923. English pro- 
fessor Ethel A. Wold handled the apparently still-perfunctory duties from 

The most active adviser, according to 1931-32 editor Charles Virgil Martin, 
was not a faculty member at all, but a former Wesleyan business manager and 
publicity director. Yet, Nate Crabtree ('28) apparently played a significant role 
in the newspaper's history. 

As a student, Crabtree's classmates elected him Wesleyan's "most represen- 
tative male student" at the 1927 frolic — an event he helped organize to purchase 
new uniforms for the marching band. "A movement to clothe the band in dandy 
new uniforms certainly is worth supporting," Crabtree wrote in the December 8, 
1927 Argus. "What do you say, Gang? Let's go!" Crabtree's other campus 
activities included everything but The Argus. He was head cheerleader, a mem- 
ber of the YMCA and secretary-treasurer of the Coffee Club. Crabtree also held 
membership in Sigma Chi Fraternity and Pi Kappa Delta, the honorary debating 

Crabtree's power of persuasion and "rah-rah Wesleyan" spirit coerced 
Martin into becoming editor. 

"By far, Argus editor was the most time-consuming occupation a student could 
have," Martin said. "With most activities, you relaxed for a while and then con- 
centrated on certain events, but with The Argus, those events happened every day. 
"Naturally, no one on the 1930 staff wanted the position. One day, Nate 

Chapter 10 Mentors 208 

Journal Job Printing, better known to generations of Argus editors as Gummerman's. For 
years, the print shop was the unofficial office of The Argus. 

Chapter 10 Mentors 209 

walked into the office and said, 'Somebody's got to buckle down and become a 
leader.'" Crabtree half-pointed to Martin when making his speech, so Martin 
reluctantly volunteered for the job. Outside of Martin's recollections, little is 
known about Crabtree's tenure as Argus adviser. Although the university catalog 
listed seven professors as serving on the publications committee from 1929-33, 
The Argus did not recognize any of them as its adviser. 

Gummerman Printing Office: Thanks for the Memories 

Over the next 30 years, students were wary of advice that came by way of 
the university. But Bernie Gummerman, with his slicked-back hair and laid-back 
way of giving advice, was just what students needed. Gummerman's pre- 1900s 
downtown print shop became their unofficial classroom and Argus office. 

"Without Bernie Gummerman, there wouldn't have been an Argus" said 
1956-57 editor Bob Page ('58). "No editor had a better friend than Bernie. He 
was always there to give you a hand. I knew if I made any grammatical or 
spelling mistakes, he would catch them. He loved Wesleyan and he loved The 

From the mid- 1930s to the 1950s, English department head William E. 
Schultz, philosophy professor Ralph E. Browns and speech professor Charles 
Major served as Argus advisers, according to former editors and university cata- 
logs. In addition to these faculty members, 1948 editor Alice Stanbery ('49) 
informally advised The Argus when 
she worked as director of Wesleyan 's 
news bureau from 1956-58. Despite 
the faculty and Stanbery's presence, 
when former editors from 1930 to 
1960 were asked, "Who advised the 
newspaper?" they overwhelmingly 
responded, "Bernie Gummerman." 

Bernie's father, John Baptist 
Gummerman, acquired The Argus 
printing account in 1933, two years 
after Bernie finished attending 
Wesleyan. The print shop at 217 E. 
Front St. was an appropriate place for 
The Argus to be printed, since Bernie 
had strong ties to IWU and was 
involved in Sigma Chi alumni activi- 
ties. When John and Bernie started 
printing The Argus, they were already 
publishing The Bloomington Journal, 
a German-language weekly (since 
1912). When the Journal ceased pub- 
lication in the mid- 1940s, the busi- 

Chapter 10 Mentors 210 

ness changed its name from Journal Job Printing to Gummerman Printing Office, 
and concentrated on printing Illinois State University's Vidette, all four 
Bloomington-Normal high school newspapers, and publications for State Farm 
and GTE. 

"No other print shops in town could or would have wanted to monkey 
around with two college papers and the other things," Bernie recalled. "They 
kept us pretty busy, and there wasn't much pay involved. We had a hard time 
keeping things running financially." 

Perhaps the reason the print shop had financial problems was because it was 
always so generous to schools and non-profits. Even though the business had a 
firm lock on the account, Bernie purchased advertisements in The Argus on a 
regular basis and worked with students on layout, content, headline writing and 
writing style — free of charge. 

"The Argus didn't have much of an office on campus for a long time, so the 
kids came down here to write their stories and do their layout work," Bernie said. 
"Things would have been a lot different if we weren't around." 

In what editors nicknamed the "Gummerman classroom," Bernie, 
"Bloomington's only white-haired hippie sage," as 1972-74 editor Dave 
Gathman called him, taught the Argusites basic layout principles, copy editing 
techniques and pyramid style organization (where stories are structured so that a 
summary of important facts comes first and details next). As a result, stories 
became more concise than in the 1920s and contained fewer spelling and gram- 
matical mistakes. Pages became more attractive, with stories no longer running 
down single columns under individual headlines. 

When students didn't see Bernie at the print shop, they saw him on campus. 
He occasionally moonlighted as an Argus photographer (taking pictures was his 
second love, next to wife Hilda), served as an unofficial adviser for Gamma 
Upsilon (the campus media honorary society) and had his own photo exhibit at 
Presser Hall for three weeks in 1942. He was so active that "Bernie should have 
been given faculty status," said 1947-48 editor Bob Holmes. 

Bernie's son Kurt, who joined the family business in 1964, carried on his 
father's tradition of informally advising the newspaper. "If we saw something 
wrong, we'd tell the editor to consider changing it," he said. "Over the years 
we've weeded out some bad language and, at times, we've suggested layout 
changes to the dismay or delight of many editors." 

Kurt added that some "very meticulous editors" have presided over The 
Argus, but no issue has ever been brought to the print shop without needing cor- 
rections. The worst problems arose when layouts didn't fit where students had 
placed them on grid sheets, or when students destroyed the galley proofs on 
which stories were copy edited and prepared for layout. Without those proofs, 
section editors had to guess the length of stories, which resulted in a copyfitters 

Despite such problems, Kurt and Bernie recall only one issue that was more 
than a few minutes late. In the early 1940s, photo engraving plates were held up 

Chapter 10 Mentors 211 

at a plant in Indianapolis, causing a one-day delay. (The print shop later pur- 
chased its own photo engraving facilities to avoid future problems.) 

The last Argus printed by Gummerman's is indicative of the service the 81- 
year-old business provided. As Kurt gave the final issue of the 1992-93 school 
year one more check before sending it to press, a possible mistake in a front- 
page photo caption caught his eye. The names of the men breaking ground for 
Wesleyan's $22.8 million science building didn't look right, so he called The 
Argus office around 2 p.m. to see if the staff had made a mistake. The managing 
editor answered the phone, but said the caption was originally written that way, 
and added that she didn't have time to check it, since she was typing a class 
assignment that was due at 2 p.m. She called the sports editor, who knew IWU's 
Public Relations office would have the correct names, but he too was frantically 
typing an assignment for his last class of the year. Kurt and his eight-person 
staff liked to start printing the 2,300 copies by 3 or 4 p.m. if the newspaper was 
to be distributed on time, and time was running short. To print, or not to print? It 
could only have been a question for someone as dedicated as the Gummermans. 

Knowing that other staff members were bogged down with their studies, 
Kurt left his office and made the five-minute trip to Wesley an — make that 10, 
since the only parking space was in the freshmen lot. He located an informed 
source in the Public Relations office and learned that his hunch was correct. The 
men in the picture were actually Edward B. Rust ('72), State Farm Insurance 
Company president and chairman of the Campaign for Illinois Wesleyan, and 
Marvin D. Bower ('45), IWU Board of Trustees Development Committee chair- 
man and chairman of the board for State Farm — not E. Hugh Henning and Dr. 
Robert Reardon, as the caption stated. 

As Evelyn Chapel's clock struck three, Kurt headed back to his office to 
insert the new caption and finish the year's final issue, which hit the newsstands 
on time that evening. And while students read of the latest events, unaware of 
the latest Gummerman heroics, Argus staffers must have heaved a sigh of relief. 

"When someone messes up, we understand," Kurt said. 'The Argus comes 
second to classes and college life. In the past, we've come to campus for pic- 
tures, galley proofs and advertisements, and we've always tried to make every- 
thing work." 

Little did Wesleyan know it was the last time a member of the Gummerman 
family would "make everything work" for Wesleyan's weekly. The office per- 
manently closed its doors in the summer of 1993, with The Argus as its last full- 
time school newspaper account. The rise of computer desktop publishing had 
made printing a tough financial venture, and Kurt noticed business lagging since 
1988. Technology had finally caught up with a business that had survived three 
times longer than the average family business. 

And with the close of Gummerman Printing Office went part of 
Bloomington culture. The 118-year-old brick building oozed with atmosphere, 
with its creaky hardwood floors, old-time tables and chairs and museum-like col- 
lection of printing presses. For 60 out of 100 years, Gummerman's has been a 

Chapter 10 Mentors 212 

part of The Argus. When the paper didn't have an office, the print shop was home. 
When the staff screwed up, John, Bernie or Kurt tried to solve the problem. In 
today's profit-driven world of businesses, Gummerman's was as old-fashioned as 
their storefront, focusing on the product and worrying about the bill later. 

Meanwhile, Back on Campus 

Even journalism courses, which had existed since 1923, took a back seat to 
Bernie. Former editors either did not recall the courses or dismissed them as 
insignificant. 'There were only one or two courses, and you had to go through 
the English department to take them," said 1942-43 editor Beth Mackey Stiffler. 
"Bernie taught us indirectly." 

Judging by course descriptions, The Argus acted as the main journalism lab- 
oratory for students wishing to enter the newspaper business. The 1925 catalog 
only offered a two-semester "News Writing" course where students spent one 
semester learning "practical training in collecting and writing news" and the 
other devoting time "to laboratory work on The Argus" This two-semester 
course continued under the names "Journalism" and "Journalistic Writing" until 

1943, when the university eliminated journalism courses from the curriculum. 
Thanks to Bernie, the change had no visible effect on The Argus. 

Wesley an' s World War II Navy cadet unit may have left campus on July 27, 

1944, but it left behind Milton Cook, its aeronautics instructor, to advise The 
Argus in 1944. Cook, who "had experience in press and public relations work at 
Amherst" College in Massachusetts, according to the September 13, 1944 Argus, 
assisted in admissions and public relations work and taught English courses. For 
unknown reasons, he left Illinois Wesleyan in 1946. 

The March 5, 1947 Argus announced that Professor Elmo Scott Watson, 
chairman of the Northwestern University Medill School of Journalism, had been 
hired to teach two journalism courses as well as write the history of the universi- 
ty for its centennial celebration in 1950. "The acquisition of Prof. Watson's ser- 
vices has been approved one month after the late Pres. [William E.] Shaw's 
promise to engage an outstanding instructor of jourcalism [sic] with actual news- 
paper experience," reported The Argus. The new journalism professor must 
indeed have taken sic when he saw the spelling error. 

During the three years Watson taught at Wesleyan, however, he did not serve 
as Argus advisor. George Allison, ('51), editor of the 1950 Argus, recalled that 
Watson used to take the Alton express train down to Wesleyan every Monday 
morning, teach one class — Journalistic Writing in first semester and Feature 
Writing in second semester — and take the train back to Northwestern Monday 
night. When he worked on The Illinois Wesleyan Story, 1850-1950, Watson 
arrived on Saturday and would spend the weekend researching. 

"Watson was one of the best journalism professors in the nation, and it was a 
great experience to learn from him," Allison said. "Almost everybody who 
worked on The Argus took his courses, and he tightened up our reporting style. 
He taught us the difference between news and feature writing and helped us 

Chapter 10 Mentors 213 

write more creative headlines." 

However, when Watson left Wesley an in 1952, the university again canceled 
journalism courses and relied on Bernie Gummerman and English department 
faculty advisers Joseph Meyers, H. Vail Deale and Oliver C. Bridwell to keep a 
watchful eye over the newspaper. By the middle of the decade, interest in jour- 
nalism seemed to be at an all-time low, with issues shrinking to only four pages. 
A February 3, 1955 editorial — more a cry for help — called for journalism cours- 
es at Wesley an to make The Argus a better publication: 

The value of amateur and professional journalism should be obvious to 
students and instructors alike. Out of the ranks of newspaper men and 
women emerge all sorts of minor and major politicos, press agents, nov- 
elists, labor leaders, advertising specialists, alcoholics, university profes- 
sors and other such colorful members of society. . . . The primary duty of 
a university is to foster free and accurate thinking in the minds of its stu- 
dents. This obligation can be fulfilled by a critical campus newspaper 
aided by a competent department of journalism. 
The university responded to the editorial by offering one newswriting course 
taught by an unknown instructor in 1956-57. Despite the lone course, 1956-57 
editor Bob Page said that he never took journalism at Illinois Wesleyan, nor does 
he remember the university ever offering a course. 

Bob Page: From Editor to Mentor 

"The reason I came to Wesleyan as opposed to a journalism school was that 
the editor of the Springfield State Journal told me he'd teach me everything I'd 
need to know about journalism," said Page, who started working for the State 
Journal (now the State Journal-Register) sports section as a high school sopho- 
more for 80 cents an hour. 

As a Wesleyan sophomore, the talented Page regularly covered University of 
Illinois football games for the State Journal. He even covered a 1957 World 
Series game between the New York Yankees and Milwaukee Braves, as well as 
major league baseball's All-Star game one summer for the State Journal. 
Pantagraph sports editor Fred Young ('15) used him to cover high school, 
Wesleyan and Illinois State athletics. 

The Argus did not become a priority for Page until the administration offered 
to pay him 25 percent of his $600 tuition to become editor. (Some editors of the 
1930s and 1940s said that they received full tuition to edit The Argus.) In fact, 
had the administration not begged Page to become editor of The Argus during his 
junior year (because nobody else wanted to), the future executive vice president 
of United Press International and president-publisher of both the Chicago Sun- 
Times and Boston Herald would never have written a word for the Wesleyan paper. 

"I don't remember any specifics about the job, except that I did most of the 
writing and layout work by myself; not too many students were interested in 
journalism," he said. "I had a lot of fun taking strong positions on things, and 
my editorials didn't exactly endear me to the administration." Page said his 

Chapter 10 Mentors 214 

opinions irritated the dean of students, who once tried to fire him. When Page 
told President Holmes that he'd gladly resign, Holmes told him, "Go back to 
work. I like what you're doing." 

From Illinois Wesleyan, Page found work at the Des Moines, Iowa, UPI 
bureau in 1960. By 1969, he was working in London as vice president of UPI's 
European, Middle East and African bureaus. Three years later, he moved to 
Hong Kong as UPI vice president for Asia, with responsibilities for an area from 
Japan to Afghanistan. 

Page's rise to UPI prominence blazed a trail for other Wesleyan graduates. 
Former Argus editors Bob Berg ('65), Jim Dorsey, Bill Joyce and managing edi- 
tor Jon Sweet ('67) all worked as editors or reporters for UPI in 1969. Wesleyan 
awarded Page with an honorary doctorate in 1986, and he served as a member of 
the Board of Trustees from 1986 to 1992. 

Moody Lays the Foundation for Journalism 

In 1958, the university hired Blaine D. Moody fresh out of graduate school 
to establish a journalism minor through the English department. Moody 
designed courses in Newswriting and Reporting, Advanced News Reporting, 
History of American Journalism, News Editing and Principles of Ethics of 
Journalism and also served as faculty adviser to The Argus. 

"I tried to help make the paper more professional and stress the basics," 
Moody said. "Back then, we were still worshipping the gods of objectivity and 
pyramid style, but I think I laid a foundation for the future." He credited editor 
Dennis Stark ('59), the first Argus editor-in-chief to serve two terms (1957-59), 
with building the staff and organizing the paper. 

"Before I arrived, editors always used to lay out the paper at the print shop 
and let Bernie put the whole thing together," Moody said. "I told Dennis to 
bring the paper here and lay it out in the office. There were basic lay out pat- 
terns the staff had never learned." 

Moody's techniques and Stark's leadership proved a fine combination, as 
The Argus was one of three newspapers in Illinois to win a first-place certificate 
from the Columbia Scholastic Press Association in 1958. The paper also won a 
first-place honor rating from the Associated Collegiate Press for the first time in 
more than 10 years. 

The only conflict Moody remembers between students and administration 
came with assistant editor Ken Qualkenbush's ('60) gossip column, 'Bees Are 
Buzzin.'" The column poked fun at the administration and faculty with lines 
such as, "Some year at Wesleyan, we should all take an all-school sabbatical — 
and do something academic," or "Ya know what this place needs to help school 
spirit? A good, drunken pep rally." 

"Wesleyan was a really conservative place, and administrators didn't like it 
if you printed the word 'alcohol' in the newspaper," Moody said. However, 
Moody continued to let Qualkenbush write the column, because he did not want 
students to think he was censoring Wesleyan's student press. 

Chapter 10 Mentors 215 

Another conflict took place when Qualkenbush competed with Larry 
Uffelman ('60) for the 1959-60 editor-in-chief position. When Student Senate 
voted to reject the Senate Publication Committee's nomination of Uffelman as 
editor by a 13-12 margin, The Argus devoted two front-page stories, an editorial 
and four letters to the editor to protest the petition denial. (Six of the publica- 
tions committee's nine members were faculty members.) 

Stark backed Qualkenbush for the editorship because of his previous Argus 
work. Uffelman, who had never worked on The Argus, was Moody's choice for 
the job, largely because he was assistant state editor of the Galesburg Register 
Mail during the summer of 1958, according to The Argus. (Moody suggested 
that Qualkenbush's buzzing gossip column was another reason he backed Uffelman.) 
Despite Uffelman's inexperience, Senate approved him by a 13-12 margin after a 
second vote. Qualkenbush went on to become editor of the 1960 Wesleyana. 

After the 1959-60 academic year, Moody left Wesleyan to take a job at his 
alma mater, Bowling Green State University. In 1959, the University hired 
Pantagraph reporter Tom Gumbrell to teach the journalism courses Moody had 
established. Gumbrell was a natural for the position because he had covered 
Wesleyan during the early 1950s and knew faculty members and administrators. 
"There wasn't a lot of interest in journalism; I only had around eight to 10 peo- 
ple in each class," Gumbrell said. 

Since Gumbrell worked full time at The Pantagraph while teaching at 
Wesleyan, Paul Hessert, a religion professor, advised the newspaper from 1960- 
61, and Edwin C. Carpenter, a speech professor, advised in 1962. 

"I really have no idea how I was selected to be Argus adviser," Hessert said. 
"I acted as a liaison between the administration and the students, but we never 
had any incidents where stories needed to be canceled." 

Thomas Batell, an English professor who served as Argus adviser in 1963, 
also did not recall how he received the position. "I guess I was the only warm 
body available," he said. "I just told the editor, 'you know what you're doing, so 
use your best judgment.' The staff wasn't very militant, and didn't shake their 
fists at the world." 

Donald Reid, Wesleyan's director of development, assumed the advisership 
in 1964. Reid, who had worked a year with the Kansas City Star, was the first 
adviser since Moody to critique the paper on a weekly basis. He found the 
advising job "enjoyable because the staff was so responsible." 

Wesleyan's journalism program underwent changes after the 1963-64 school 
year, when Gumbrell left to accept the position of city editor at The Milwaukee 
Sentinel. Replacing him would be a professor that would go on to advise The 
Argus for 20 years. 

" Hand-out Harv" Stands Up for The Argus 

Fed up. Those two words appropriately summed up English and journalism 
professor Harvey Beutner's attitude toward college newspapers when he came to 
Illinois Wesleyan in 1964. 

Chapter 10 Mentors 216 

But when he left in 1988, Beutner's name was as synonymous with The 
Argus as it was with the Illinois College Press Association, which he helped re- 
establish in 1983. The 24 years in between tell how Beutner successfully bal- 
anced the roles of faculty adviser and advocate for a student free press. 

Beutner earned two master's degrees from Northwestern University — a jour- 
nalism degree in 1951 and an English degree in 1955 — and worked as a reporter 
for the Danville Commercial News before beginning his love-hate affair with 
college newspapers at Florida's Stetson University in 1957. 

That year, Stetson's southern Baptist administration regularly censored its 
student newspaper, The Reporter. When university officials temporarily sus- 
pended The Reporter for printing an article which criticized the administration, 
the staff took a copy of the newspaper, placed it in a coffin and buried it in front 
of the school's bell tower. The university promptly buried the newspaper for the 
rest of the year and called on Beutner to resurrect it in 1958. 

"I ended up putting the whole paper out by myself," recalled Beutner, for 
only four editors served on The Reporter's re-vamped staff. "I stayed up all night 
copy editing and worked the next day with the printer, who wasn't very helpful." 

After leaving Stetson, Beutner worked for Chicago's Follett Publishing 
Company from 1960 to 1964 as an author and editor of social studies textbooks. 
He came to Wesleyan in 1964 with a vow that he would do no advising. 

"I wasn't going to write, censor or copy edit anything; I'd gladly offer advice 
on journalistic ethics and values, but I wasn't going to interfere with production 
of The Argus" Beutner said. 

Thanks to Reid, Beutner was able to prolong the inevitable. After teaching 
English and journalism for two years, Wesleyan granted him a two-year leave of 
absence to write and study in England. (He received his Ph.D. in English from 
Northwestern in 1967.) When he returned in 1968, the university asked him to 
replace Reid, who left to become the University of Idaho's director of development. 

"No one else in the English department wanted the job, and I didn't know if 
I wanted it either," Beutner said. "When I first came to Illinois Wesleyan, The 
Argus was a PR vehicle, an image-projector. I disagreed with that. As long as 
students were responsible and honest, I felt the newspaper should be independent 
of the university." 

Beutner followed guidelines established by the association of College Media 
Advisers, of which he was a member: 

The adviser is not a censor, nor a copywriter nor a re-write person, nor 
an editorial writer. The adviser does not lay out pages, nor edit any copy 
before it goes to the printer, nor act as an editor of the publications. He 
advises and teaches these skills, but after giving guidance and the best 
possible judgment, defends — and observes — totally the right of the staff 
to make the final decisions. (CM A, Ethics and Responsibilities of 
Advising College Publications) 

Beutner said that newly inducted President Robert Eckley agreed with the 
CMA credo, but that didn't mean the rest of the administration and faculty 

Chapter 10 Mentors 217 

It's no April Fool: For 20 years, The Argus provided Harvey 
Beutner with more than a few fits of "Agony" (1977). 

accepted the free 
press concept — 
especially during the 
late 1960s, when 
Vietnam, civil rights 
struggles and student 
protest all had pro- 
found effects on col- 
lege campuses. 
"Students chal- 
lenged teachers a lot 
more and didn't 
accept our answers 
unless they ques- 
tioned and demon- 
strated them," 
Beutner said. "They 
put a lot of pressure 
on us, which made 
us sharper, too." 

In his first few years with The Argus, Beutner felt pressure from all sides, 
especially when 1968 Argus editors asked permission to cover previously private 
faculty meetings. When editors showed up at the faculty meeting where the vote 
to let them in was being discussed, tempers flared on both sides. 

"If the faculty had voted to exclude editors, things would have been a lot dif- 
ferent for The Argus" said Beutner, recalling how he and history professor Paul 
Bushnell stood up for the concept of a free press. "The vote was 37 to 33 [to admit 
the editors], and one faculty member was so upset he stormed out of the meeting." 

An October 11, 1968 Argus editorial told how the move set up a relationship 
of trust between the newspaper and the new president. "We heartily support . . . 
Eckley's belief in learning through asserted responsibility and the long-run value 
of the free press," wrote The Argus. "We will try to minimize distortion; we ask 
the faculty to display patience and apply the tenants of its profession." 

Although Beutner made sure The Argus would not become another Stetson 
Reporter, the free press battle was just one problem he faced. Editors felt more 
comfortable working with Bernie and Kurt Gummerman, and Beutner did not 
know how to relate to the staff. To make up for this lack of communication, 
Beutner "worked as much with the students as I could in journalism classes, cri- 
tiquing The Argus [as well as other publications] and discussing layout, content 
and technique." 

The seven-course journalism program Beutner implemented featured courses 
in Newswriting and Reporting, Advanced News Reporting and Feature Writing, 
History of American Journalism, Copyreading and News Editing, an indepen- 

Chapter 10 Mentors 218 

dent study course in Press Law and Ethics, and a Journalism Internship. Beutner 
said that the class he enjoyed teaching the most was Newswriting and Reporting, 
because it incorporated all aspects of journalism, including interviewing, writing 
style, press law and ethics. Students named him "Hand-out Harv" for the exces- 
sive number of Xerox copies he distributed in class. He also made students type 
out in-class assignments on Royal manual typewriters to simulate actual news- 

To supplement classwork, Beutner helped establish journalism, public rela- 
tions and communications internships with The Pantagraph, Sterling's Daily 
Gazette, WJBC Radio and State Farm Insurance Company. He also helped stu- 
dents coordinate internships outside the Twin Cities at WGN Radio/Television in 
Chicago and at the City Paper in Washington D.C. More than 85 students partic- 
ipated in an internship during his tenure. 

Despite Beutner's journalistic wisdom, editors didn't always practice what 
he taught. For example, the 1968 Argus started a "police blotter," a record of 
off-campus arrests, even though Beutner opposed the idea because a weekly 
newspaper could not monitor charges and acquittals on a regular basis. Some of 
the students listed in the first blotter, which appeared on page eight of the April 
18, 1969 issue, happened to be black, and a number of students claimed the blot- 
ter was racially motivated. It never appeared again. 

A more serious incident occurred on December 5, 1975 when the page-one 
story "WESN thief arrested, released" implied that David Cannon, a former 
Wesleyan student, was guilty of stealing $425 worth of missing WESN radio 

Allegedly, while employed by WESN, Cannon took the equipment to be 
repaired and failed to return it. . . . After his arrest, he was released on a 
$4,000 bond. Arrangements were made by Cannon and his immediate 
family and the president of the Student Senate to return the equipment, a 
Pioneer AM-FM receiver. Upon the return of the equipment charges 
were dropped. 

"I knew something had to be done when the student's father called me and 
was very upset," Beutner said. "I've only had to tell the editors to write two 
retractions and apologies for the newspaper in my tenure, and that was one of 
them." Beutner made sure that next week's front page "Retraction and Apology" 
stated, "David Cannon has not been convicted of any crime, and all charges have 
been dropped" (December 12, 1975). 

Other low points in Beutner's advising career came between 1973-75 when 
seven different editors ran The Argus. When 1911 -IS editor Thomas Richards 
('78) wrote, "In recent years, The Argus has become a burden. It has become a 
financial liability that does not deserve the funding which it receives," the staff 
vowed to bring the newspaper respectability. And, for the first time, they invited 
Beutner to the office to critique it. 

"I can't say enough good things about Dr. Beutner," said 1977-78 managing 

Chapter 10 Mentors 219 

editor and 1978-79 editor Ann Orth Nussbaum, who, despite being an English 
education major, took all of Beutner's journalism classes. "He generously gave 
up his free time to tell us what was wrong and right about each issue. And with 
his guidance, The Argus really started to look like a newspaper." 

The Associated Collegiate Press agreed, awarding The Argus a First Class 
honor rating for the 1978-79 academic year for the first time since the early 
1970s. With Beutner's guidance, The Argus received ACP's First Class honor 
rating or its highest honor, the All-American rating, on many occasions from 

Beutner also compiled a 79-page sabbatical report entitled "Journalism at 
Illinois Wesleyan University (1964-1988)." In addition to reporting the where- 
abouts of 116 students who had taken his journalism classes, the study offered 
suggestions on ways to improve the journalism curriculum, The Argus, WESN 
and the Wesleyana. His suggestions included awarding class credit for off-cam- 
pus internships, inviting professional journalists to speak in the classroom and 
placing a greater emphasis on interviewing techniques. 

After 20 years of Argus advising, Beutner was a tough act to follow. His 
replacement, James Plath, recalled that some faculty members stopped him in the 
halls to ask if he was the "new" Harvey Beutner, while others took to calling him 
"Harvey Beutner Jr." Plath, a feature writer for the short-lived Milwaukee 
Weekly and editor-publisher of Clockwatch Review, began teaching in fall 1988, 
redesigning the three existing journalism courses to place a greater emphasis on 
writing and on assignments that simulated field conditions. 

With The Argus, he followed the same CMA guidelines as Beutner, tailoring 
his role to meet the needs of each staff. Some have asked him to hold mini- 
workshops on writing, layout techniques and ad sales. "One year, the staff was 
in such a perpetual state of crisis, I put in 14 hours a week. Another year, things 
ran so smoothly that I only spent three hours a week critiquing the paper," he 

Plath added that some of the best investigative reporting never makes it into 
the newspaper. In one case, a student came to The Argus to complain that stu- 
dents were forced to pay higher travel costs for a short-term class. The student 
alleged that the registrar's office used the same travel agent for all university 
business, rather than trying to get the cheapest rate. Argus reporters talked with 
the university's travel agent, airline companies, other universities, students who 
took the trip and students from previous travel courses. "They did a pretty thor- 
ough investigation," Plath said, "and they learned a lot in the process. But in the 
end, they learned that it was a 'non-story' because the original complaint could 
not be corroborated." 

Sometimes those "non-stories" are frustrating for students. "They hear the 
rumors, they read between the lines, and it drives them crazy that they can't pry 
open the lid that's trying to keep things quiet," Plath said. "Then, my advice is 
simply, 'let it go.'" 

Chapter 10 Mentors 220 

The Results of Good Mentoring 

Former Argus editors have gone on to make successful names for them- 
selves both in and out of journalism. The 1992 IWU Alumni Directory reported 
37 alumni working for a newspaper or magazine, 45 working in public relations 
or marketing and eight in broadcast journalism. In addition to Bob Page's UPI 
rise to journalistic prominence, 1937-38 editor Charlotte Fitzhenry Robling, a 
former Associated Press reporter, was one of two women to earn a prestigious 
Nieman Journalism Fellowship from Harvard University in 1945. No woman 
had won the fellowship since its inception in 1938. 

After leaving Illinois Wesleyan in 1935, 1931-32 editor Charles Virgil 
Martin went on to become the first Carson Pirie Scott and Co. chairman of the 
board not to be a member of the founding families. Martin, who also worked as 
chairman of the Illinois Public Aid Commission and director of the Indianapolis 
Community Fund, has developed a reputation for championing minority and 
urban causes. Elizabeth Wood ('20), editor of the 1919-20 Argus, went on to 
become the founding director of the Chicago Housing Authority and a pioneer in 
the field of public housing. Harry W. McPherson, Argus editor for the 1905-06 
school year, became President of Illinois Wesleyan University, serving from 

In 1993-94, though Illinois Wesleyan still has no journalism major or minor, 
the tradition of solid journalism continues. Fresh out of Wesleyan, David Moll 
began covering murders and other front-page news for The Times-Press in 
Streeter, before moving on to the Peoria Journal-Star. And Bill Wills, managing 
editor for The Pantagraph, hired Darlene Ostrowski before she even graduated, 
choosing her over working journalists and "j-school" graduates. 

An Expanded Readership 

Many Wesleyan students do not realize that The Argus is read, critiqued and, 
yes, even respected outside the Bloomington-Normal area. As a longtime mem- 
ber of the Illinois College Press Association, member of the Associated 
Collegiate Press from 1937-89 and former member of the Columbia Scholastic 
Press Association, the newspaper has won numerous awards for writing, photog- 
raphy, layout, graphics and general excellence. 

The Argus began its relationship with the Illinois College Press Association 
in 1922, when it participated in ICPA's fall and spring conventions with other 
colleges and universities from across the state. As at today's ICPA conventions, 
students listened to professional journalists, participated in writing and editing 
workshops and competed for awards. In 1928, The Argus won first place out of 
16 colleges for "overall competency," prompting The Pantagraph to call it "one 
of the most outstanding college newspapers in the state." Wesleyan became so 
involved with ICPA that it hosted the 20th annual convention in 1942, and 1946- 
47 editor Barbara Browns Mathis ('47) was elected ICPA President. She did not 
get to preside over any conventions, however, since war forced ICPA to cancel 

Chapter 10 Mentors 221 

the convention (which was to be held at the University of Illinois). "People were 
trying to conserve gas, and traveling was discouraged," she said. 

In 1937, The Argus joined the Associated Collegiate Press, which provided a 
critiquing service in addition to a yearly convention and awards ceremony. The 
newspaper maintained joint membership in both ACP and ICPA until 1952, 
when its masthead listed membership in ACP only. Jim Ridenour, editor of the 
1952-53 Argus, does not remember paying dues to ICPA and said he assumes 
colleges simply lost interest and the society quietly died. Despite the loss of 
ICPA, ACP membership provided ample opportunity for feedback and recogni- 
tion. In addition to receiving numerous "first class" ratings, which indicated "an 
outstanding college newspaper," many Argus staffs earned ACP's highest honor, 
the coveted "All- American" rating. 

In January, 1971, The Argus sponsored but (as host) did not participate in an 
ACP-style weekend journalism conference. The only disappointing aspect of the 
contest, according to 1970-72 editor Tom Wetzel, was that the rival college 
newspaper in town — Illinois State's Vidette — came away victorious. But 
Wetzel's staff did all right elsewhere. In 1970-71, The Argus was one of only 
two newspapers in the nation to win the Columbia Scholastic Press Association's 
"Medalist" rating. On a rating scale of 1,000 points, The Argus scored 987, 
which prompted one judge to write on his critique, "this is more than a student 
newspaper; this is a professional newspaper." ACP awarded The Argus "All- 
American" status that same year. 

In 1982, college newspaper advisers from across Illinois saw a need for state 
newspapers to convene, exchange ideas and offer awards of their own. With this 
in mind, Harry Theil and Jim Munz of Illinois State, John David Reed of Eastern 
Illinois, E. Mayer Maloney, Jr. of the University of Illinois and IWU's own 
Harvey Beutner set out to revive ICPA. After a year of phone calls, meetings 
and hard work, a new and improved ICPA convened for the first time at Eastern 
Illinois in 1983. 

Affiliated with the Illinois Press Association, ICPA currently sponsors a 
Chicago weekend convention and awards ceremony each February, with the 
Chicago Tribune providing major support. Students look forward to the annual 
convention as a reward for a year's hard work, and as a way of reviving them- 
selves for the "stretch run." There, they can commiserate with other college 
journalists and rub elbows with professional journalists from both the Tribune 
and Chicago Sun-Times. Eastern Illinois University's John M. Ryan currently 
serves as ICPA president, IWU's James Plath serves as 1st vice-president, and 
Sangamon State University's Deborah Landis serves as 2nd vice president. 

Gamma Upsilon 

On their resumes, Argus editors are often able to list membership in Gamma 
Upsilon, the honorary media fraternity. Although the national fraternity disband- 
ed in 1962, Wesleyan's Illinois Alpha Chapter — the second chapter founded in 
the nation — still operates as of the 1993-94 academic year. 

Chapter 10 Mentors 222 

Perhaps Wesleyan's Gamma Upsilon chapter survives because long time 
Wesleyan English department head William E. Schultz co-founded the fraternity 
while teaching at Culver Stockton College in 1923, according to the December 
18, 1935 Argus. When Schultz came to Wesleyan in 1934, the university felt 
that a chapter of Gamma Upsilon would "foster an interest in college student 
publications" and "stimulate interest in all phases of undergraduate literary work 
that finds its way into print." When the chapter was officially installed in 1935, 
Wesleyan's newspaper said that it offered a "triple innovation" for fraternities of 
its type, in that 

it is co-educational, unlike several organizations of a similar type, being 
open on equal terms to men and women who have achieved success in 
their chosen student activity; it is co-publication, electing students from 
any publication properly approved (newspaper, annual, literary monthly, 
or comic magazine); and it is co-staff being open to editorial representa- 
tives and business members alike. 
Wesleyan's ties to the media honorary were so strong that the university 
hosted the fourth annual Gamma Upsilon convention on September 26 and 27, 
1952. Six schools from three states attended the newspaper, yearbook and liter- 
ary magazine panel discussions and participated in a publications symposium, 
convention dinner, social hour and "record dance." IWU hosted the fraternity's 
eighth national convention on October 29, 1960 in much the same fashion. 

Until the mid-1960s, Gamma Upsilon members were required to endure a 
strict initiation ritual and work on a major media project. As of the 1993-94 
school year, the fraternity serves strictly as an honorary, recognizing students for 
outstanding work on The Argus, Wesleyana or WESN. Gamma Upsilon also honors 
two students each year for outstanding editing and managing of campus media. 

Chapter 1 1 A Week with the Boar— Life in the Office 223 

The 1894-95 Argus staff. Seated : Ruth Henry, local editor; Clarence E. Snyder, editor-in- 
chief and F. A. McCarthy, literary editor. Standing: Edson Hart, subscription agent; J. 
Riggs Orr, local editor; J. K.P. Hawkins, business manager and Irene Bassett, exchange 

Chapter 1 1 A Week with the Boar— Life in the Office 224 


A Week with the Boar — Life in the Office 

Too, too true 
re-printed from the October 8, 1940 Argus 

"What have you done?" St. Peter asked, 

"That I should admit you here?" 

"I ran a paper," the editor said, 

"At my college for one long year." 

St. Peter pittingly shook his head 

And gravely touched the bell. 

"Come in, poor man, select a harp; 

You've had your share of Hell!" 
Blood, sweat, long hours, forgotten classwork, sick jokes and staff tension 
all lie beneath the weekly newsprint of The Argus. The newspaper office, locat- 
ed on the second floor of the Memorial Student Center, is the spot where person- 
alities combine under an intense amount of pressure, and it would be a lie to say 
that every Argus staff has been tightly knit. Tempers ran high during the 1973 
"St. John affair," when Student Senate elected an editor who had never worked 
on the newspaper, recalled Jim Robinson, one of four editors during that year. 
Another conflict between editorial board members in the late 1980s led to more 
than a few shouting matches — one of which escalated into a spitting incident and 
the resignation of several staff members, according to former photo editor Chet 
Price ('90). 

Patricia Berry, the night attendant at Memorial Student Center's main desk 
(located on the first floor below The Argus office), has witnessed many Argus 
highlights and lowlights since assuming her duties in 1987. For security reasons, 
editors must check in with Berry when they work in the office past the Student 
Center's closing time, between midnight and 1 a.m.. Since there are few others 
in the building during her eight-hour shift, Berry has observed the staff enough 
to get a sense of the way things work. "If the editor's a strong leader and every- 
one gets along, you're going to have a good paper," she said. "If people's egos 
get the best of them, then there's going to be nothing but pain, anguish, snarl and 
suffering up in the office." 

According to former editors, however, The Argus has created more friend- 
ships than adversarial relationships. Beth Mackey Stiffler, editor of the 1942-43 

Chapter 11 >A Week with the Boar— Life in the Office 225 

Old North Hall (1856- 1966), where The 
Argus had an early office on the second 

Argus, worked on the newspaper 
because "it was fun and there was a 
tremendous amount of camaraderie 
and friendship among the staff." 
Ruth Nordin Zervas, editor of the 
1961-62 Argus added, "If you were 
willing to do it and were willing to 
stay in the office hour after hour, then 
you had a place in The Argus. For me 
it was my college family. The office 
was where I was comfortable and 
where I fit in." 

For a few Argus staff members, 
The Argus literally was family. 
Eleanor Ann Browns Fennelly and 
Barbara Browns Mathis, 1945-46 and 
1946-47 editors, respectively, were 
the only sister editors in Argus histo- 
ry. Their father, Ralph E. Browns, 
was a Wesleyan philosophy profes- 
sor, so the pair grew up reading The Argus. They even married a pair of Argus 
staff writers. "We didn't have many men on the staff during the war years, but 
the ones we had were pretty good," Browns Mathis said. The Browns sisters 
also recall having staff meetings at their home because The Argus did not have a 
permanent office on campus. 

Before The Argus moved into the Memorial Center in 1966, such makeshift 
meeting places were necessary because of the paper's crowded campus quarters. 
Until 1948, the newspa- 
per office was located in 
a number of places, 
including a Hedding Hall 
classroom, the second 
floor of Old North Hall 
and the second floor of 
Buck Library. The April 
21, 1948 issue reported 
that The Argus gained a 
small office in the base- 
ment of Buck Library, 
and Buck's basement 
remained Argus head- 
quarters until 1953, 
when the newspaper 
moved to the second 

The main reading room of Buck library (1949). At vari- 
ous times, The Argus had basement and second-floor 
offices in Buck. 

Chapter 1 1 A Week with the Boar— Life in the Office 226 

"Say Cheese!" Argus photographers George Ongemach, 
Bill Breitweiser and Jorgen Jacobsen (1954). 

floor of the library. 
A small room in the 
barracks housed The 
Argus in the late 
1950s, before it 
moved to the base- 
ment of newly com- 
pleted Holmes Hall in 
1960. A November 
11, 1966 caption 
attached to a photo of 
the Memorial Center 
office read, "WE 
Arising out of the 
steamy depths of 
Holmes Hall, the ARGUS has ascended to the spacious upper story of the 
Memorial Center." 

Serious Argus work takes place on Tuesday and Wednesday nights when the 
majority of the staff lays out pages, writes headlines and edits copy. Described 
as "experiments in insomnia" by 1972-74 editor Dave Gathman, Wednesday 
worknights often ran into Thursday mornings. As for academic pursuits, editor 
Bob Berg put it another way: "You could kiss off Wednesday nights." Former 
editors could probably recite the following cycle (with a few variations) in their 
dreams ... or nightmares: 

• Monday: An editorial board meeting is held at The Argus office to assign 
stories and photographs for next week's issue and generate editorial topics. 
Copy for this week's issue also is supposed to be due on Monday nights, but will 
likely come in sometime on Tuesday. Before electric typewriters and computers, 
students would often come into the office and type stories on gray, manual Royal 
typewriters, which Gathman said "could stand up to an earthquake, but it took 
just about that much force to work their stiff keys." 

• Tuesday: The copy editors and editorial board meet right after dinner to 
check the stories that hopefully have been turned in and to write the editorials, 
news briefs and weekly calendar. Photograph cover sheets also are prepared. 
The business staff must finalize its deals and have advertisements ready to go to 
the printer so they can be laid out tomorrow. The editor (or other staff member 
with a car) drives the copy down to the printer's office after the work is done. 

• Wednesday (into Thursday): The bell tolls for The Argus staff at 3 p.m. as 
copy editors and editorial board members arrive to check the printer's galley 
proofs, which present stories in column inches as they will look in the newspa- 
per. Graphic artists take a look at the editorials and columns and decide which 
topic is artistically suitable for the "Opinion" page. While the staff edits copy, 
the editor and associate or managing editor decide how many pages the issue 

Chapter 11 A Week with the Boar— Life in the Office 227 

will be and where advertisements will be placed. After determining which pho- 
tos to use, section editors receive dummy pages for photo and copy layout. Last, 
but not least, come the agonizing headlines (written on the dummy sheets above 
each story) and the cutlines (which, below each photo, identify people and 
describe the action). So that no discrepancies arise, each section editor types the 
headlines and cutlines on a separate sheet of paper — better known as the head- 
sheet. Finally, the headsheets, photographs and graphics are attached to each 
dummy page. All dummy pages along with the galley proofs are placed in an 
envelope and the editor, once again, drives the newspaper down to the printer's 
office late Wednesday or early 
Thursday morning and "puts the 
issue to bed." 

While the newspaper may be 
resting, editors are often too high on 
adrenaline to put themselves to bed. 
Gathman remembers late-night trips 
after dropping the paper off at 
Gummerman Printing Office. 
"Here, on a deserted, shabby down- 
town street, someone would dash 
out of the car and slip the envelope 
surreptitiously through a slot in the 
door, cocking a wary eye for mug- 
gers or drunks from the tavern 
across the street," he said. "Often 
the night would end with a run to 
'Brandtville,' formally known as 
Bob Johnson's Restaurant. Its exte- 
rior looked like Las Vegas East, with 
neon lights up the wazoo." 

After late-night trips and "early 
bird specials" the editors drag them- 
selves back to campus. "I was so busy with The Argus and school work that I 
caught myself going to bed when the other guys were getting up," recalled 1953- 
54 editor Art Schmittler. 

• Thursday: After morning classes and possibly a few hours sleep, the editor, 
associate or managing editor and chief copy editor (along with anyone else who 
wants to join them) take a final trip to the printer's office to read final proofs of 
The Argus. Even after an additional hour of reading each story, cutline, headline 
and jump, mistakes still make their way into the final issues that are printed and 
distributed Thursday night and Friday morning. The staff returns to hear stu- 
dents and faculty complain about the newspaper Friday, Saturday and Sunday — 
and the cycle repeats itself on Monday. 

When Gummerman Printing Office closed in the summer of 1993, The Argus 

The 1960-6 1 Argus staff, hard at work in 
their Holmes Hall basement office, 
Pictured: Ken Boyd, Mary Lou McClellan 
Olin and Phylis Sanders Salak. 

Chapter 11 A Week with the Boar— Life in the Office 228 

4 The 


y^ Illinois Wesfc? 

Students unload concerns over May term proposal 

The 1993-94 Argus; New size, new technology new 
printer. Each issue is computer-generated. 

production cycle remained 
the same, but production 
procedures changed signifi- 
cantly. Luckily, a deal was 
worked out with The 
Pantagraph so that The 
Argus could be printed 
locally, but The Pantagraph 
does not take an active role 
in the newspaper's produc- 
tion, as did Bernie and Kurt 

In terms of technology, 
The Argus has come a long 
way in the past five years. 
Before computers, Kristin 
Frazier ('91), editor during 
1989-90, remembered hav- 
ing only "one typewriter 
that worked well." Writers 
now turn in stories on com- 
puter disks in a word pro- 
cessing program so they 
can be edited. Next, the stories are transferred from the word processing pro- 
gram to a layout program, and section editors design the newspaper on a comput- 
er screen. A gigantic laser printer magically churns out pages as they will look 
in print. The Pantagraph simply takes a picture of the newspaper and runs off 
2,000 issues in just a few hours. 

It is difficult to get a feel for how many students wrote and edited copy for 
The Argus during its 100 years, since bylines for all stories did not consistently 
appear until 1983. Not only did the byline offer incentive for writers to see their 
name in print, but it also held them accountable for any faulty information. 
Editorial boards have averaged six to 11 members over the history of The Argus. 
The 1993-94 version of team Argus still kicks into high gear on Wednesday 
nights. But the first thing a person notices upon entering the office is not the 20 
or so people editing copy, rewriting or laying out the newspaper, nor the ominous 
sight of four layout "super computers" which occupy the west wall — or even the 
oak table rescued from the old Buck Weems Journalism Room (now a foreign 
language classroom in Buck Library). The first sight one sees upon entering The 
Argus office is the head of a wild boar mounted above an old, no-longer-func- 
tional marble fireplace. 

If The Argus is all-seeing, then the boar, adorned with an editor's leather 
whip, John Lennon sunglasses and a number of other trinkets inside its mouth, is 
all-knowing. Over the years, the boar has come to symbolize the late-night gid- 

Chapter 1 1 A Week with the Boar— Life in the Office 229 

diness and "slap happy" attitude of Argus staffers. If you upset the boar, it will 
make your Wednesday night a living hell; if you become one with the boar, it 
may guide you to as many as — but seldom more than — five hours of sleep. 
Once 9 p.m. rolls around, one might even see staffers talking to the boar, asking 
for inspiration on a lead, headline or an interview. 

Members of today's staff cite Christopher Baron, Argus columnist and assis- 
tant editor, as the member who has developed the closest relationship with the 
boar. It is Baron who, around nine o'clock every Wednesday, flips a switch to 
turn on the barber-shop style lights surrounding the boar for "The Argus . . . after 
hours," the period in which the boar — like the head in William Golding's novel, 
Lord of the Flies — yields its secrets of wisdom and human life. 

Baron has become so attuned to the boar that he even declared September 
1993 National Boar Month in conjunction with The Argus centennial. Holidays 
included the "Last Boar Supper" (pork chops, of course), "Hug-a-Boar Day," 
"Supply a Boar with a Condom Day," "Boar Suffrage Day" and "Feed Your 
Favorite Senate Executive Officer to the Boar Day." In all of Baron's boar-dom, 
not even he knows how it appeared in the office in the early 1980s. According 
to a 1984 April Fool's issue, a few staffs called the boar "Beth," but, like many 
Wesley an traditions, the name has not carried on. 

In addition to worshipping the boar, Baron reads all the newspaper's copy, 
assists with all phases of production (especially computer layout), makes all final 
copy editing changes before the paper goes to press and assists section editors in 
training staff writers. 

Despite the office's new high-tech look, business manager Ross "the boss" 
Minion ('94) and head of sales Tish Mackey ('95) still run the business depart- 
ment the old fashioned way, convincing local merchants to buy advertisements 
and "trading out" advertisements for free food on Wednesday production nights. 
(Minion said he's working on tuition waivers, but for now pizza will have to suf- 
fice.) In addition to his duties as a salesman, Minion also was instrumental in 
working with Student Senate to get computer equipment for the office, even 
before the staff knew that Gummerman's was closing. Treasurer Culley 
Summers ('94) worked over the 1993 summer in order to computerize all client 
records, which gives the business staff immediate access to totals and outstand- 
ing accounts. 

The business staff, which in 1993-94 occupies the traditional editor's cubi- 
cle, uses computers to design advertisements under the guidance of production 
manager Guy Suesuntisook ('94). Suesuntisook's knowledge and ability to put 
up with computer-phobic section editors has enabled The Argus to make the 
rocky technological transition as smooth as possible. Along with graphics editor 
Jame Standefer ('94), Suesuntisook designed the front-and back-page centennial 
nameplates. Standefer creates illustrations and infographs — both computer and 
hand-generated — which complement stories and make for interesting layouts. 

Photography editor Judy Hoff miller ('96) and Student Senate photo coordi- 
nator Josh Birk ('96) provide news and sports photos. Not only have they found 

Chapter 1 1 A Week with the Boar— Life in the Office 230 

time to find and train a few quality "snap artists," but they also take many pic- 
tures themselves, focusing on the basics of effective photojournalism (action and 
emotion, bigger is better, implied narrative and tight cropping to produce a dra- 
matic photo). 

With the new computer system giving the staff more to panic about, one 
favorite stress abatement technique is to add a caption underneath a photo of Dr. 
James Plath, Argus faculty advisor since 1988. Under the banner "What's upset- 
ting this man?" are some 53 (and counting) captions, among them: "Wesleyan 
teacher salaries," "he just found out there's no seat on his bicycle," "that necktie" 
and "he just finished critiquing this week's Argus." 

Plath has developed quite a relationship with The Argus staff. Like his pre- 
decessor, he critiques the newspaper only after it is published. Every Tuesday or 
Wednesday, by invitation of the editors, he talks for an hour or two about each 
issue's strengths and weaknesses, often lingering to offer advice on stories in 
progress. Most of the training for Wesleyan journalists comes through the three- 
course journalism sequence he teaches through the English department and 
through the internships that he supervises. 

A photo with the boar, the 1993-94 Argus staff. Back row: Christopher Baron, Chris 
Fusco, Guy Suesuntisook, Jame Standefer, Dave Brown. Middle row: Julieanna 
Lambert, Jennifer Barrel!, Deborah Obalil, Ross Minion. Front Row: Kerry Podzamsky, 
Judy Hoffmiller, Maisa Taha. Missing: Kevyn Kusinski, Tish Mackey, Culley Summers, Ed 
Schweitzer, Jenny Lietzau 

Chapter 11 >A Week with the Boar— Life in the Office 231 

When the staff gets in a rut, Plath is always there with words of encourage- 
ment. "Working for the Argus is tough," he agrees. "The average Argusite's 
grade point average drops one-half to a full point because of the hours and effort 
expended. But when it comes time to enter the work world, being a part of one 
of the top non-daily college newspapers in the state can carry more weight than 
any single course." 

Though The Argus, itself, often weighs students down, many former editors 
seem to have edited their memories so that they're all positive. Since the 1960s, 
burnout has been common, with many editors ready to call it quits long before 
spring staff changeover. One editor in the mid-1980s resigned after his first fall 
issue, citing stress, while another 1992 editor ended up in the hospital with walk- 
ing pneumonia. 

Jennifer Barrell, 1993-94 editor, is one of seven people to edit The Argus for 
two years. Barrell's responsibilities include supervising the content and lay out 
of each issue and working with the assistant and news editors to determine the 
ranking of stories. She is solely responsible for the opinion pages and partially 
responsible for any libel suit the newspaper might encounter. (Fortunately, and 
perhaps miraculously, that has not happened in the past century.) A member of 
the staff since her freshman year, she also serves as president of Gamma 

News editors Kerry Podzamsky ('96) and Kevyn Kusinski ('97) are respon- 
sible for generating and assigning stories of depth, quality and variety, laying out 
the front page and covering "hard" campus news — or the lack thereof. In 1993, 
they have had quite a task before them in covering proposed changes to 
Wesleyan's academic calendar and the 7 to 6 faculty course load reduction plan. 
Naturally, the news desk is located closest to the new computer system, so that 
Kusinski and Podzamsky can type in Illinois Wesleyan's news as it happens. 

Features editor Dave Brown ('96) and Arts and Entertainment editor, 
Deborah Obalil sift through press releases, story assignments and junk mail to 
create lively center sections. The A & E section features movie, music and book 
reviews, in addition to covering campus production and artistic events. As fea- 
tures editor, Brown keeps up with campus groups and events, while searching for 
interesting story ideas — not always easy on a small, private campus. What's 
more, he also has to keep after writers to make sure that stories are accurate and 

The sports desk, which sits on the south wall next to the editor's cubicle, is 
inhabited by Chris Fusco. Fusco sees to it that all of Wesleyan's 16 varsity sports 
and four club sports are covered, in addition to writing an occasional sports col- 
umn. He tries to ensure an adequate mix of not only game stories but also team 
previews and sports features. 

With all the responsibilities given the staff, it's traditional that die-hard edi- 
tors have spent more than 30 hours per week in the newspaper office. Because 
of that, the office has become their home away from home. Chaotic stacks of 
paper, old news releases, pens, glue sticks and photographs clutter the desks. 

Chapter 1 1 A Week with the Boar— Life in the Office 232 

Near the front door, a sofa provides the perfect spot for editors to "crash," while 
the coffee machine next to it provides caffeine to awaken them for all-night lay- 
out sessions. The staff is also able to listen to music on two stereos, and a refrig- 
erator keeps late night snacks fresh. The walls are decorated with artsy posters. 
ACP and ICPA awards and a single-copy retirement "extra" declaring "Hand out 
Harv super." 

Historically, long hours spent in the office have not always been spent work- 
ing, but procrastinating. Most Argus staffs have found more conventional ways 
to kill time. Since the 1930s, editors have traveled to Bloomington's (now 
defunct) "red light" district, climbed on the roof of the Memorial Center (some- 
times, to howl at the moon), lit fires in the fireplace, played board games, 
smoked cigarettes, hosted "Argus Dance Parties," climbed out the office win- 
dows or played touch football. Late-night discussions on anything from religion 
to post-graduation plans were popular diversions. As 1962-63 editor Phylis 
Sanders Salak explained, "We were a strong unit, spending long hours debating 
life and times." 

Argus editors of 1993-94 have experienced many of the same "editor bond- 
ing moments" as their predecessors. Hysteria has its way of forming patterns. 
Although not the entertainment editor, Brown, is by far the staffs most entertain- 
ing member. His impersonations of Hollywood celebrities and Wesleyan faculty 
members gets graphics editor Standefer going. Then, just as the two start dis- 
cussing strange lines from movies nobody has heard of, production manager 
Suesuntisook (we prefer to call him Guy), comes rollerblading through the 
office, using people and desks as an obstacle course. The only editors not dis- 
tracted at this point are those who are gossiping about campus happenings or dis- 
cussing some staff member's love life while quasi- working. 

This mayhem temporarily ends when Student Senate treasurer Josh Yount 
appears at the door looking for Minion and the revised 1993-94 newspaper bud- 
get. Yount has yet to find either on the first try; when he does locate Minion, the 
Argus business manager assures him that he'll have everything prepared by the 
following week. Senate media commissioner Alison Sturdevant ('94) periodical- 
ly wanders into the office to make sure the two are not at each other's throats. 

Other interruptions are caused by phone calls from the Argus' "extended 
family." Editors spend so much time in the office that they give their loved ones 
the newspaper phone number in lieu of their room numbers. For example, 
everyone on the staff is familiar with editor Barrell's University of Illinois 
boyfriend and Fusco's mother — both frequent callers to The Argus. 

Concerned parents are not that unusual. Son of former IWU President 
Merrill J. Holmes, Bob Holmes ('48) remembers his mother's devotion to the 
newspaper. "After working until two or three o'clock on Tuesday night, I would 
come home and drop off the paper at my mother's house for her to proofread" 
the next day, he said. Though her changes came after the fact, the staff learned a 
great deal from Florence Holmes' corrections, according to her son. 

Chapter 1 1 A Week with the Boar— Life in the Office 233 

Although the editors, writing styles, office locations, advisers and production 
procedures of the newspaper have changed since 1894, the spirit guiding The 
Argus and its staff have persevered. Today, that spirit has been captured in the 
boar, but for other editors, it is captured in the memories that live on after com- 
mencement — the all-nighters, friendships and the feeling of a job well done. 
That spirit bonds Argus staffs of past, present and future. But 1952-53 editor Jim 
Ridenour described the staff's relationship best: "We were just happy to get an 
issue out every week." 

Appendix A Campus Maps 234 


Campus Maps 

Campus aerial photograph (1940). 

Appendix A Campus Maps 235 



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Appendix A Campus Maps 236 

Campus map (1952). 

Appendix A Campus Maps 237 



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Appendix A Campus Maps 238 





n n 


i r 


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I (-So: 

i r 

"i r 

Campus map (1994). 

1 . Merrill J. Holmes 

20. Phi Gamma Delta 

40. Blackstock Hall 

Administration Building 

21. Wilder Field (Wesleyan 

41. Kappa Kappa Gamma 

2. Shaw Hall 


42. Wallis Hall 

3. Evelyn Chapel 

22. Fred Young Fieldhouse 

43. Sigma Kappa 

4. Park Place, Business and 

23. Tau Kappa Epsilon 

44. Beadles Hall (Sigma Pi) 

Economics Division 

24. Alpha Gamma Delta 

45. Buck Memorial Library - 

5. Multi-Cultural Center 

25. Adams Hall (ACACIA) 

Computer Center 

6. Wilder Hall 

Academic Skills Center 

46. Bible Garden 

7. DeMotteHall 

26. Philosophy Department 

47. Art Building 

8. Mark Evans Observatory 

28. Munseli Hall 

48. Merwin Art Gallery 

9. Sherff Hall of Science 

29. Ferguson Hall 

49. McPherson Hall (School of 

10. Sheean Library 

30. Memorial Student Center 

Theatre Arts) 

1 1 . Stevenson Hall (School of 

31. Kemp Hall (International 

50. Hedding Bell 



51. John Wesley Powell Monument 

12. Magill Hall 

32. Velma Arnold Bookstore 

52. Presser Hall (School of Music) 

13. DoddsHall 

33. Pfeiffer Hall 

Westbrook Auditorium 

14. Dolan Hall 

34. Arnold Cabana 

53. Lab Theatre 

15. Memorial Gymnasium 

35. Career Center 

54. Music Building 

16. ThetaChi 

36. Gulick Hall 

55. President's Home 

17. Physical Plant Office 

37. Kappa Delta 

56. United Methodist Central 

18. Heating Plant 

38. English Building 

Illinois Conference Office 

1 9. Fort Natatorium 

39. Security 

57. Alpha Omicron Pi 

Appendix B Argus Editors 239 


Argus Editors 

;, 1894-1994 

1894-95 Clarence Snyder 

1925-26 Albert Williamson 

1895-96 Albert L.Wood 

1926-27 Austin Truitt 

1896-97 Leslie L.Baker 

1927-28 Thornton McClaughry 

1897-98 Maggie L. Smith 

1928-29 Palmer Boyle 

1898-99 Jesse Dancey 

Margaret Noble 

J. Verne Swartz 

1929-30 Edward Hahn 

1899-1900 Alice M. Northrup 

1930-31 Madeleine Anderson Cutright 

1900-01 BessyeWelty 

1931-32 C.Virgil Martin 

1901-02 Helen M. Dean 

1932-33 Mary Ellen Crum 

1902-03 Charles J. Robinson 

Midred Fitzhenry Jones 

1903-04 Clyde Leighty 

1933-34 John Fremont Melby 

1904-05 Irvin Livingston 

1934-35 Harlan Stanger 

1905-06 Harry McPherson 

1935-36 Everett Melby 

1906-07 Albert B.Wright 

1936-37 Ralph E. McCoy 

Charles H. Wright 

1937-38 Charlotte Fitzhenry Robling 

1907-08 Charles A. Nyman 

1938-39 Keith Anderson 

1908-09 Frederic B. Grant 

1939-40 Mary Fran Payne 

1909-10 Henry Burd 

1940-41 Harold McMillan 

1910-11 Arthur Peine 

1941-42 Dale Mehrhoff 

1911-12 M.May James 

1942-43 Beth Mackey Stiffler 

1912-13 Wayne Calhoun 

1943-44 Margot Smith Lucas 

1913-14 Edwin H.Cooke 

1944-45 Rose Schlosser Benson 

Thomas Carter 

1945-46 Elanor Ann Browns 

1914-15 Paul Theobald 

1946-47 Barbara Browns Mathis 

1915-16Mary Hairgro ve 

1947-48 Bob Holmes 

Harold Plummer 

1948-49 Alice Stanbery 

1916-17 Andrew Honn 

1949-50 Bob Gorman 

1917-18 Marion Austin 

1950-51 George Allison 

1918-19 Carol J. James 

1951-52 Lennie Genung 

1919-20 Elizabeth Wood 

1952-53 Jim Ridenour 

1920-21 Harry Evans 

1953-54 Art Schmittler 

1921-22 Sarah Taylor 

1954-55 Dave Gilbert 

1922-23 Harry Evans 

1955-56 John Copeland 

1923-24 Ruth Henline 

1956-57 Bob Page 

1924-25 Gertrude Barlow 

1957-58 Dennis Stark 

Appendix B Argus Editors 240 

1958-59 Dennis Stark Jennifer Moskowitz 

1959-60 Larry Uffelman J. Arlen Bowyer 

1960-61 Dori Andresen Danielson 1990-91 Kristina Geister 

1 96 1 -62 Ruth Nordin Zervas 1991-92 Darlene Ostro wski 

1962-63 Phylis Sanders Salak 1992-93 Jennifer Barrell 

1 963-64 Dave Olson 1 993-94 Troy Clark 

1964-65 Bob Berg Jennifer Barrell 

1965-66 Bill Joyce (Chris Fusco) 

1966-67 Elizabeth Glosser Dorsey 

1967-68 James Dorsey * _ ,. 

in , , ftn , Editors whose names are in paren- 

1968-69 Bob Sweet , , , . * , 

1 n^n nn t • a tt a r?- u theses acted as editor-in-chief for less 

1969-70 Linda Henderson Fischer 

in - n - 1T „, . ! than three issues. 

1970-71 Tom Wetzel 

1971-72 Tom Wetzel 

1972-73 Jim Hale, Dave Gathman 

1973-74 Thomas St. John 

(Judy Bubert)* 

Dave Gathman 

Jim Robinson 
1974-75 (Paul Breen) 

Debbie Burt Frazier 

Gail Campbell 
1975-76 Jim Roberts 
1976-77 Liz Meldahl Miller 

Maria Donato 
1977-78 (Laura Grafe) 

(Ann Orth Nussbaum) 

Thomas* J. Richards 
1978-79 Ann Orth Nussbaum 

Don Thompson 
1979-80 Don Thompson 
1980-81 Tracy Higgins Fox 
1981-82 George Fox 

Chris Hewitt 
1982-83 Chris Hewitt 
1983-84 Lori Linehan Swan 
1984-85 Rick Linneman 
1985-86 Kathy Greenholdt 

Brett Johnson 
1986-87 Brett Johnson 
1987-88 J. Arlen Bowyer 
1988-89 Kris Frazier 
1989-90 (Bob Hessling) 

Index 241 



AIDS, 118-19 

Akanthos, 58 

Allison, George, 212 

Alma College, 1 1 1 

"Alphy" (Alpha Deuteron), 36 

Alumni Journal, 3-4 

American Assoc, of Univ. Women, 122 

American Friends Service Committee, 87 

American Red Cross, 26, 72, 77, 79, 101-2 

American Society of Beau Brummells, 154 

Amherst College, 212 

Anderson, John B., 65 

Anderson Cutright, Madeleine, 41, 149 

Andresen Danielson, Dori, 125 

Argus, Bloomington, 1 

Argus Panoptes, 1 

Argus, The 

1894 staff, 223 

1904 front page, 17 

1921 front page, 20 

1960 staff, 227 

1960s front page, 29 

1980s front page, 30 

1990s front page, 228 

1994 staff, 230 

50th anniversary year, 25 

alcohol ads, 124, 175-76 

April Fool's issues, 37-38, 149, 


Baby Argus, 22 

"Bee-Witcher," 26, 101 

budget, 163, 165 

Charles Martel, 30, 106, 108, 

134-35, 139 

cigarette ads, 173-74 

"Colonel's Corner, The," 184 

"Current Comment," 95-96 

distribution, 16 

"Echo Chamber, The," 111-12 

"Faculty Corner," 105 

first "extra," 43, 182 

first front page, 13 

free press, 217 

freshman issue, 16 

Gadfly, The, 114,116, 135-36, 

155, 158 

"Green Room, The," 101 

"Hans Heckles," 24 

Illinois Wesleyan Argus, 18, 21 

largest front page, 23-24 

"Observer, The," 93 

police blotter, 218 

"President's Corner," 105 

"Rah Stuff," 24 

sports columns, 189, 196, 203 

"The Argus" suit, 167 

"Under the Arch," 105 

Wesleyan Argus, The, 13, 21 

"Wesleyan Muse, The," 22 

"With Malice Towards Some . . ," 

Arizona State Univ., 201 
Associated College Press, 83, 214, 219-21 
Associated Colleges of Illinois, 1 10 
Associated Press, The, 189, 220 
Assoc, of American Universities, 122 
Assoc, of Intercollegiate Athletics for 
Women, 204 
Athenian, The, 3, 10-11 
Augustana College, 183, 193,201 
Aumack, Cathy, 63 
Austin, Francis Marion, 207 
Austin, Marion J., 73 
Avenger, The, 3,9-10 

Index 242 


Baechler, Gib, 194 

Barbour, James, 62 

Baron, Christopher, 141, 229-30 

Barrell, Jennifer, 2, 66, 230-32 

Barrett, David, 89, 159 

Baseball Hall of Fame, 186, 189 

Basie, Count, 46 

Batell, Thomas, 215 

Beau Brummell, 154 

Bee-Gees, 160 

Belinski, Julie, 66-7 

Bell, Harry, 189-90 

Bellaire, Robert, 82 

Bennett, Jim, 198, 201 

Bennett, William, 106 

Benny, Jack, 50 

Berg, Bob, 214, 226 

Berry, Patricia, 224 

Bertholf, Lloyd M, 2, 28, 105-7, 125 

Beutner, Harvey, 215-19, 221, 232 

Birk, Josh, 229 

Birney, Eloise, 189 

Bisaillon, Chris, 205-6 

Black Book, 19 

Blackburn College, 178-79 

Black History Month, 140 

Blazine, Tony, 188-89 

Bliss, Leonard "Baby," 153 

Bloomington-Normal, 111., old 

A. Livingston & Sons, 169 
Arlington Cafeteria/Hotel, 168 
Bloomington Assoc, of 
Commerce, 81, 191 
Bloomington High School, 150 
Bloomington Journal, The, 209 
Bloomington Printing and 
Stationary, 18 
Bob Johnson's Brandtville 
Restaurant, 158, 169, 227 
Bolles Tailor, 164,176 
Boston Cafe, The, 167 
Brokaw Hospital, 72 
Castle Theater, 168-70 
Charles O'Malley, 167 
East Bay camp, 81 

East Front St., 81 

Esquire Theater, 154, 169 

Green Mill Cafe, 168 

Hamilton Hotel, 8 1 

Hoppe's Cigar Store, 173 

Illinois Hotel, 145, 165 

Irvin Theater, 167, 169-70 

Mac's Barber Shop, 168 

Music Mart Records, 169 

Shelper's Mission, 151 

State Farm Insurance, 1 14, 171, 


W.B. Read & Co., 167, 169, 181 

Bodell, Mark R., 74 

Boer, Stan, 198 

Boston Celtics, 203 

Boston Herald, 213 

Boston Red Sox, 201 

Bower, Marvin D., 21 1 

Bowling Green State Univ., 215 

Bowyer, J. Arlen, 117, 131, 173 

Borman, Frank, 28 

Borsch, Reuben, 150, 184 

Boyd, Ken, 227 

Bradley Institute/Univ., 19, 183, 185, 190, 


Bray, Robert C, 1 14 

Breadloaf School of English (Vermont), 


Breen, Dave, 198 

Breen, Paul, 128-29 

Breitweiser, Bill, 226 

Brickhouse, Jack, 189-90 

Bridges, Dennie, 189-90, 198, 203 

Bridwell, Oliver C, 213 

Bright, Jeff, 128-29 

Brooks, Wiley G., 190 

Brown, Andrette, 3 1 

Brown, Dave, 230-31 

Brown, Mike, 201 

Browns, Ralph E., 225 

Browns Fennelly, Eleanor Ann, 76, 82, 225 

Browns Mathis, Barbara, 220, 225 

Bubert, Judy, 129 

Buchwald, Art, 108 

Burda, Robert W., 62-63 

Burt Frazier, Debbie, 159 

Index 243 

Burwell, Dick, 201 

Bush, Barbara, 66 

Bush, George, 65-66, 89, 119 

Bushnell, Paul, 87, 111-12,217 

Butler, Nicholas Murray, 95 

Byler, Bob, 154 

Cable's Victrolas, 167 

Caldwell, Albert R, 150, 207 

Calhoun, Wayne W., 95 

California Angels, 201 

Cambridge Univ., 73 

Cannon, David, 218 

Capodice, Marty, 185 

Capone, Al, 149 

Carnegie, Andrew, 39 

Carpenter, Edwin C, 215 

Carroll College, 193 

Carthage College, 188, 193 

Cassaday, Harry D., 181 

Castle Theatre, 172 

Chapel of the Four Chaplains, 79 

Charles O'Malley Clothing, 168 

Charukian, George, 89 

Cheeseman, Kara, 162 

Chicago, 1, 83, 102, 150 

Chicago Bears, 186 

Chicago Cardinals, 189 

Chicago Cubs, 190,201 

Chicago Daily News, The, 181 

Chicago State Univ., 87 

Chicago Sun-Times, 62, 213, 221 

Chicago Tribune, 11, 41, 62-63, 171, 187, 


Chicago White Sox, 200-1 

China, 88, 155, 158 

Chisholm, Shirley, 31 

Christie, Lee, 130 

Chung, Kathy, 155 

Church, Roy, 187 

City Paper (Washington, D.C.), 218 

Civil Rights Movement, 28, 31, 49, 51, 

53, 203, 217 

Clinton, Bill, 66, 119 

Clockwatch Review, 219 

Cold War, 86, 176 

College Conference of Illinois and 

Wisconsin, 186, 192-93,202 

College Herald, The, 3, 6-7 

College Media Advisers, 216, 219 

College Press Service, 86, 89, 159 

College Republicans, 131 

Columbia Scholastic Press Assoc, 214, 


Columbia Univ., 95 

Common Fund Corp., 64 

Communism, 47, 86 

Conroy, Bill, 201 

Cook, Dave, 158 

Cook, Joe, 184 

Cook, Milton, 212 

Cooperstown (NY), 186 

Copland, Aaron, 46 

Cornell Univ., 3, 181, 186 

Costello and O'Malley Clothing, 166 

Cotter, Linda, 204 

Coursey, Edward, 135 

Crabtree, Nate, 41, 207, 209 

Culver Stockton College, 222 

Cummens, John A., 174 

Cupid, 4, 73, 148 

Dace, Wallace, 101 

Daily Gazette (Sterling), 218 

Dale, Emily, 52, 56 

Dale, Steven, 56 

Dancey, Jesse S., 73 

Darrah, Delmar, 180 

Davidson, William J., 200 

Davis, Roy L., 71 

Deale, H. Vail, 213 

Decatur Athletic Club, 180 

DeLuca, Stu, 58 

DeMange, Dr. and Mrs., 160-61 

DeMotte, Harvey C, 3-5 

Denby, Phil, 115 

Denmark, 156 

DePaulUniv.,21, 183, 185 

Depression, Great, 24, 36-37, 40-42, 123, 


Desert Shield/Storm, 89 

Dirks, Ed, 77-78 

Index 244 

Dirksen, Everett, 28 

Donato, Maria, 59, 113 

Dorchester, SS, 78 

Dorsey, Jim, 49, 214 

Dukakis, Michael, 65-66 

Duke, David 141 

Duke Univ., 105 

Dumbarton Oaks Documents, 80, 163 

Dunlap, Steve, 117 


Earl, Fred C, 10 

Eastern Illinois Univ., 194 

Eckley.Nell, 115, 123 

Eckley, Robert S., 2, 53-54, 87-88, 112, 


Eddy, Don, 187 

Edgar, Jim, 31-32 

Eggert, Charles A., 207 

Eisenhower, Dwight D., 85, 154 

Elite Journal, The, 3, 7-9, 1 1 

Elliot, Howie, 198 

Elliot, Jim, 184 

Elliott, Sue, 127 

Elmhurst College, 193, 195 

Elrod, M.J., 144 

El Salvador, 66 

Enochs, CD., 181 

Estwick, Mike, 206 

Eureka College, 47, 179-81 

Evans, Bob, 165 

Evans, Fred, 198 

Federal Bureau of Investigation, 83 

Federal Communications Commission, 131 

Ferguson, Wilbert T., 15, 70, 207 

Ficca, John, 160 

Fiderlick, James J., 207 

Fifer, George, 71 

Fifer, Joseph, 71 

Fine Young Cannibals, 160 

Finfgeld, Richard J., 21, 184, 188 

First Amendment, 121, 124 

Fitzgerald, F. Scott, 97 

Fitzhenry Robling, Charlotte, 24, 42, 169, 


Florida Marlins, 201 

Fonda, Henry, 159 

Four Men of God, 79 

Fox, George R., 78 

France, 73, 80 

Frazier, Kristin, 228 

Freese, Don, 43 

The Freshman, 172 

Fritchley, Tracy, 160 

Fulbright, J.W., 27 

Fulbright Scholarships, 89, 155 

Fusco, Chris, 2, 206, 230-32 

Future Farmers of America, 161 

Gaboda, Gail, 161 

Galesburg Register Mail, 215 

Gaskins, Kelly, 3 1 

Gardner, Eric, 50-51,65 

Gathman, Dave, 124, 128-30, 175, 210, 


Geise, Pat, 107 

Geister, Kristina, 162 

Gellhorn, Martha, 42 

Germany, 71, 79-80, 82 

Ghandi, Mahatma, 153 

Ginsberg, Allen, 28 

Glosser Dorsey, Elizabeth, 50-5 1 

Godfrey, Floyd, 144 

Goldwater, Barry, 108 

Gorman, Bob, 36 

Graff, Dean, 201 

Graham, Robert O., 181, 207 

Gramkow, Tom, 198 

Grange, Red, 187 

Granger, Stewart, 154 

Greder, Darcy, 1 1 1 

Greenland, 78 

Griesheim's Men's Clothing, 164 

Grubb, Harry, 201 

Guild, Cliff, 144 

Gulf War, 89 

Gumbrell, Tom, 215 

Gummerman Printing (John, Bernie & 

Kurt), 24, 27, 43, 208-9, 208-213, 217, 


Index 245 

Habitat for Humanity, 32 

Harry Caray's Restaurant, 1 

Hartman, Al, 173 

Harvard Univ., 4, 18, 74, 87, 220 

Haussler, Glenn, 187 

Heafer, "Flying Dutchman," 187 

Hedding College, 41, 43 

Hefner, Hugh, 158 

Heidel, W.A., 33 

Hemingway, Ernest, 42, 161 

Hemingway, Lorian, 161 

Hempstead, Bert E., 18 

Henderson Fischer, Linda, 51 

Henning, E. Hugh, 211 

Hensel, Paul, 24, 187 

Hermes, 1 

Herrick, Rick, 64 

Hershey, Lewis B., 86 

Hess, Wendell, 62 

Hessert, Paul, 215 

Hessling, Bob, 118, 131 

Hiatt, Brian, 111, 161 

Hibbard, Don, 43-44, 46 

Higgins Fox, Tracy, 62 

Hilden, Frances, 152 

Hill, Elizabeth, 153 

Hinkley, Jr., John, 1 16 

Historical Sketch of the Illinois Wesley an 

Univ., An, 2 

Hitchings Danou, Nancy, 49 

Hitler, Adolph, 79, 98, 101 

Hoffmiller, Judy, 229-30 

Holmes, Bob, 26, 102, 210, 232 

Holmes, Florence, 232 

Holmes, Merrill J. 37, 83, 85, 214, 232 

Holy Land, 79 

Hoover, Herbert, 64 

Hopkins (student), 8 

Hoppes Cigar advertisement, 174 

Horenberger, Jack, 178, 186, 189, 191, 

199, 201 

Hornley, Andrew Hornley, 9 

Hotel Atlantic, 169 

Houston Astros, 201 

Howe, Van F., 191 

Hughes Kalvelage, Dorothy Mae, 150-51 
Hughes, Langston, 27 
Humphrey, Hubert H., 28, 30 
Hussein, Saddam, 89 
Hutchins, R.M., 152 


Illinois College, 178, 193 

Illinois College Press Assoc, 1, 37, 118, 

160, 163,216,220-21 

Illinois Intercollegiate Athletic 

Conference/ Assoc, 183, 194 

Illinois Inter-Collegiate Contest, 178, 206 

Illinois Press Assoc, 221 

Illinois State Human Relations 

Commission, 139 

Illinois State Journal (-Register), 11,213 

Illinois State [Normal] Univ., 15, 26-27, 

31, 54-55, 65, 67, 81, 88, 91, 102, 111, 

145, 159, 177, 179, 192, 194-98, 210, 


Illinois Wesley an Story, The, 2, 191 

Illinois Wesleyan Univ. 

Acacia, 37, 63-64, 161 

Academic Appeals Board, 62 

administration, 2, 78, 98, 1 10, 

122,125, 140,213 

advertisement, 165 

alcohol policy, 57-60, 63, 116-17, 


All-Univ. Council, 125 

Alpha Omicron Pi, 60-61 

Amie Chapel, 7, 43-44, 72, 145 

art building, 161 

Barbarians, 9, 91 

barracks, 8 1 

Blackstock Hall, 161 

beanies [freshman], 154-55 

Beta Kappa, 153 

bicycle club, 9 

Black Student Assoc/Union, 32, 


Bloomington Community 


Board of Trustees, 39-40, 58, 

64, 92, 




bookstore, 9 

Buck Library, 21, 93, 105, 150, 


cadet program, 81, 191 

Campaign for Illinois Wesleyan, 


Camp Johnson faculty retreat, 


Campus Chest Hootenanny, 108 

Campus Life Committee, 175 

chapel services, 28, 97, 99, 101, 

104, 107 

Civilian Defense program, 77 

color rush, 34, 146 

condoms on campus, 1 19 

Corn Bowl victory, 194, 198, 206 

Curriculum Council, 117 

dancing, 93-94 

Delta Omicron, 153 

Dolan Hall, 27 

Duration Hall, 46, 156 

Elites, 7 

Evelyn Chapel, 211 

faculty, 5, 7, 12, 62, 93, 98, 104, 


Ferguson Hall, 118, 140,161 

Fort Natatorium, 116 

Fred Young Fieldhouse, 50-51, 


Gamma Upsilon, 210, 221-22, 


Gays and Lesbians of Wesleyan, 


Greek organizations, 3, 7-10, 

22, 24, 26, 37, 46, 52, 59, 63-64, 


145,151, 158,160 

Grind, [The Annual], 147-48 


hazing, 34, 93, 145-46 

Hedding Hall, 4, 6, 8, 15, 36-37, 

43-46, 72, 100, 143, 149, 225 

Holmes Hall, 110, 113-14, 156, 


Homecoming, 24, 35, 58, 101-2, 

132,135, 151, 154-55 

home economics major, 112 

Human Relations Committee, 


"Hut, The," 156 

Independent Women/Men, 100 

in loco parentis, 1 1 1 

Intercollegiate Oratorical 

Contest, 13 

Inter-Fraternity Council, 52, 100 

International Studies Program, 


IWU Convocations & Religious 

Activities Commissions, 87 

IWU Urban Studies Program, 


IWU Women's League, 76-77 

January term, 89, 119 

journalism, 214-15, 217-18, 

219, 228 

Kappa Delta, 102, 132, 153 

Kappa Kappa Gamma, 61, 101, 

132, 161 

Kemp Hall, 35, 39, 81-82, 

150-51, 156 

Law Department/School, 6, 9- 

10, 15, 40, 74, 144 

literary societies, 9, 91, 144 

Marine Corps Reserve OTP, 86 

Mark Evans Observatory, 28 

McPherson Theater, 161 

Media Commissioner, 113, 126, 


Memorial Center (Davidson, 

President's Room, Center Grill, 

Dug Out), 27-28, 49, 67, 104, 

110, 137, 171, 173-74,224-26, 


Memorial Gymnasium, 21, 40, 

94, 150, 183, 199-200 

Minority Opportunities 

Program, 117 

move to Springfield, 39-40 

Munsell Hall, 37, 57, 63 

museums, 143 

Old Main (see Hedding Hall) 

Old North Hall, 42, 225 

Oxford Club, 94-95 

pajama parade, 35, 144-45, 151 

Pan Hellenic, 100 

PfeifferHall,81, 161 

Index 247 

Phi Delta Theta, 7 

Phi Gamma Delta, 7, 15, 19, 22, 

36, 77, 153 

Phi Mu Alpha, 55, 153, 160-61 

Phoenix, 63 

Pi Kappa Delta, 207 

pranks, 91-92 

Presser Hall, 21, 26, 43, 55-56, 


Produce for Tuition, 41-42 

Progressive Student Union, 136 

Public Relations Department, 


race relations, 26, 52-53, 137- 


Religious Activities Commission, 

51, 125 

R-rated movies, 124 

rush, 60, 98 

Saga Food Service, 110 

School of Drama, 88, 152 

security, 60-61, 117-18, 159 

senior piker's day, 146, 148 

Sheean Library, 4, 37, 63 

Shirk Athletic Center, 186, 199 

Sigma Alpha, 153 

Sigma Alpha Iota, 153 

Sigma Chi, 36, 48, 101, 153, 


Sigma Kappa, 22, 152, 161 

Spinster Week, 100 

sports championships, 43, 173, 

182, 187, 192, 194, 199 

Spotlight Alley, 156 

Stevenson Hall, 39 

Student Army Training Corps, 81 

Student Council, 94, 163 

student handbook, 109 

Student Senate, 48, 53-54, 57, 



163, 173-74,215,224,229 

Student Soldier Contact & War 

Record Committee, 76 

Student Union, 27, 77, 97, 1 10, 

126-27, 132, 152, 154, 171 

Tau Kappa Epsilon, 46-47, 60, 


Terrapins, 193 

Titans, 187-88 

U.S.S. Wasp, 81-82 

Wesleyan "bubble," 31 

Wesleyan "family," 33 

Wesleyan Forward Movement 

Assoc, 39 

Wesleyan Night School, 99 

WhistleSTOP, 118 

White Paper, 105-7 

Wilder Field, 18,95,98, 150, 

183, 191 

Wilson College of Arts, 1 1, 155 

Year of Re-evaluation, 1 12 

Illinois Wesleyan Univ.: Growth, 

Turning Points and New 

Directions Since the Second 

World War, 2 

Indiana Univ., 159 

International Student Service, 80 

Jackson, Greg, 62 
Jackson, Jesse, 51-52 
Jacobsen, Jorgen, 226 
Jack Lewis Jewlers, 173 
Japan, 80, 82-83, 155 
Jaques, William, 96 
Jarot,Jeff, 160 
Jensen, Jerry, 53-54 
Johnson, Amos, 187 
Johnson, Clarence, 137-38, 141 
Johnson, Lyndon B., 64, 108 
Johnson, Magic, 118,202 
Jones, John Paul, 151 
Jones, Malik, 205 
Jordan, John E., 184 
Joseph, Joe, 78 
Journal-Star (Peoria), 220 
Joyce, Bill, 135,214 


Kamholz, Bob, 128-29 
Kansas City, 114, 157, 195,202 
Kansas City Star, 215 
Kaufman, Sara, 1 3 1 

Index 248 

Keeslar, Thomas H., 88 

Keller, Letita, 159 

Kemp, Theodore, 72, 81, 93 

Kennedy, Jacqueline, 157 

Kennedy, John R, 28, 31, 65, 103, 108, 

135, 138, 157 

Kennedy, Robert F., 65, 139, 158 

Kennedy, Ted, 158 

Kent State Univ., 54, 56, 123 

Kerr, Norman, 27 

Kerr-Mills Bill, 108 

Keys, Adam, 131 

Khan,Tariq, 131 

Khomeini, Ayatollah, 115 

Kieh, Jr., George Clay, 160 

Killarney's Irish Pub, 176 

Kimbert, Victor George, 14 

Kindred, Dave, 198-200 

King, Rodney, 141 

King, Jr., Martin Luther, 49-52, 139 

Klipp, Ronald, 56 

Knotts, Don, 159 

Knox College, 178-79 

Korean War, 27, 69, 83-85 

Kresl, Dave, 49 

Krueger, Tracy, 136-37 

Kuechenberg, Nancy, 49 

Ku Klux Klan, 140-41 

Kusinski, Kevyn, 230-3 1 

Labarthe, Pedro Juan, 106 
Lake Forest College, 193 
Lambert, Julieanna, 230 
LaMonica, John, 22 
Larson, Don, 187, 194 
Leary, Timothy, 66 
Lee, Robert, 62 
Letterman, David, 160 
Lewis, Bob, 154 
Liberia, 66, 160 
The Library advertisement, 174 
Lim, Bessie, 150 
Lincoln, Abraham, 77 
Lincoln College, 188 
Linneman, Rick 63 
Livingston, Harold, 22 

Livingston's Barber Shop, 166 

Lockmiller, Jennifer, 67 

Long, Bob, 195 

Long, Sara Ellen, 51 

Los Angeles, 141 

Los Angeles Times, 41 

Love, Harold H., 71 

Love, Malcolm A., 75-76 

LSD, 157 

Lundberg, Gary, 115, 130 

Lynd, Straughton, 87 


Mackey Stifler, Beth, 43, 76-77, 212, 224 

Mackey, Tish, 229-30 

Maloney Jr., E. Mayer, 221 

Mandela, Nelson, 140 

Martin, Charles Virgil, 22, 30, 207, 209, 


Martin, Paul, 73 

Martin Hordgraf, Elizabeth, 60-61 

Mathis, Johnny, 46 

Matushek, Ed, 129 

Maugham, W. Somerset, 62-63 

McCarthy, Joseph, 47, 104 

McClellan Olin, Mary Lou, 227 

McCoy, Amy, 66 

McCoy, Ralph E., 41, 122-23, 133 

McHugh, Chris, 161 

McKay, John, 159 

McNaught, Joseph F., 143 

McNeely, Mike, 201 

McPherson, Harry W., 122-23, 220 

McVicker, Paul W., 88 

Meadows, Joy, 141-42 

Mechling, Terry, 130 

Medical Aid to Indochina Committee, 88 

Mehrhoff, Dale, 99 

Meierhoffer, Anne, 157 

Melby, Everett, 80, 207 

Melby, John Fremont, 81 

Meredith, James, 3 1 

Metcalf Smith, Pam, 158-59 

Methodist Church, 4, 6, 94, 105-7, 125, 


Michigan State Univ., 21, 186, 188 

Miller, Ann, 40 

Index 249 

Millikin Univ., 48, 182-83, 193, 195 

Milwaukee Bucks, 202 

Milwaukee Sentinel, The, 215 

Minion, Ross, 175, 229-30 

Missouri, 81 

Molinari, Jim, 202 

Moll, David, 140, 220 

Mondale, Walter, 65 

Monmouth College, 178, 181 

Mood, John J., Ill 

Moore, Eddie, 201 

Moody, Blaine D., 214-15 

Moody, Richard, 156 

Moore, R. Jonathan, 120 

Moran, Jorie, 160 

Morrow, Bob, 187, 194 

Muhl,Fred, 182-83, 186 

Muirhead, Dick, 52 

Muirhead, Pamela, 62 

Munsell, Oliver S., 4 

Munz,Jim, 221 

Mutual Broadcasting System, 87 

Meyers, Joseph, 213 

My Store advertisement, 167 

Myers, jr., Minor, 1-2, 120, 141 


Nagel, Freddie, 102 

Napoleon (Bonaparte), 79 

National Assoc, of Intercollegiate 

Athletics, 195, 202, 204 

National Collegiate Athletic Assoc, 204-5 

National Enquirer, 59, 113 

National Student Christian Federation, 125 

Nebraskan, 15 

Neeman, Cal, 201 

New Home Sewing Machine, 164 

News and the Bee, The, 3 

Newsweek, 62-63 

New York, 74, 152 

New York Times, The , 26, 41, 62, 122 

Nichelson, Lynn, 88 

Nielsen, Kai, 56 

Nixon, Richard M., 54, 65, 88, 129, 157, 159 

Nordin Zervas, Ruth, 133-34, 165, 173- 

74, 225 

Normalite, The, 21 

North Central Assoc, of Colleges and 
Secondary Schools, 122 
North Central College, 183, 193 
Northern Illinois Univ., 87, 202 
Northern Pacific Railroad Co., 143 
North Park College, 193 
Northwestern Univ., 7, 15, 83, 183-84, 
Notre Dame Scholastic, The, 10, 105 


Oakland Athletics, 201 

Obalil, Deborah, 67, 230-31 

Oberlin Univ., 87 

Oborn, Daniel S., 86 

O'Dwyer, "Battering Ram," 187 

Ogilvie, Richard, 54 

Olt, April, 119 

Ongemach, George, 226 

Open Road Magazine, 150 

Oracle, The, 3, 8-11 

Orr, J. Riggs, 14, 223 

Orth Nussbaum, Ann, 60, 124, 219 

Orwell, George, 124 

Ostrowski, Darlene, 132, 160, 220 

Ouija boards, 157 

Oxford Univ., 21, 73, 150 

Page, Robert, 49, 209, 213-14, 220 

Pankoke, Jason, 120 

Pantagraph, The Daily, 1 1, 24, 43, 123, 

185-86, 188, 190, 195, 198, 213, 215, 


Pape, Max, 56 

Paramount News Corp., 41 

Paris, 69 

Parlin, ElwynC, 71 

Patterson, Tom, 57, 127, 129-30 

Payne, Mary Fran, 83, 173 

Peace Corps, U.S., 86, 135 

Pearl Harbor, 99 

Perot, H. Ross, 66, 119 

Personal Memoir of the Bertholf Years at 

Illinois Wesleyan Univ., A, 1958-68, 2 

Peterson, Amy, 131 

Petty, Cecil, 78 



Philadelphia Phillies, 201 

Phillips, Betsy, 161 

Phillips, Wally, 159 

Pictures At An Exhibition: Illinois 

Wesleyan Univ., 1968-1986, 2 

Pitts, Clyde, 10 

Pittsburgh Pirates, 201 

Planned Parenthood, 113 

Plath, James, 131, 134, 140, 219, 221, 


Playboy, 158-59 

Podzamsky, Kerry, 230-31 

Pope, Jerry, 59-60 

Pope John-Paul II, 114 

Porter, Lyde R., 69-70 

Portwood, Cheryl, 53 

Potter, B.S., 3 

Powell, John Wesley, 3 

Price, Chet, 224 

Purdue Univ., 35 

Protection Connection, 176 

Prastein, S. Matthew, 106 

Prenzler, Vernon, 36 

Priess, Dave, 134 

Princeton Univ., 74 

Purdue Univ., 195 

Pyle, Ernie, 101 

Qualkenbush, Ken, 214 

Rader, Doug, 201 

Radio Free Europe advertisement, 171 

Rasmussen, Roger, 80 

Raycraft, Don, 185, 196 

Rayner, Ray, 159 

Reagan, Ronald, 46-48, 65, 116, 136 

Reardon, Robert, 211 

Reed, John David, 221 

Reid, Donald, 215-16 

Relaford, Joe, 161 

Rhea, Howard, 184 

Rhodes Scholarships, 21, 150, 184 

Rice, Jerry, 206 

Richards, Thomas, 218 

Richards, Wayne, 195 

Ridenour, Jim, 33, 84, 233 

Riley, James, 181 

Ringling Bros. & Barnum & Bailey 

Circus, 151 

Ripley, Robert, 102 

Roach, Derek, 66 

Robinson, Brett, 201 

Robinson, Jim ('41), 173 

Robinson, Jim, 53, 129-30, 224 

Rodgers, Maurita, 192 

Rodham Clinton, Hillary, 66 

Roettger, Wally, 188 

Roe vs. Wade, 66 

Rofstad, Carol, 60 

Romania, 80 

Roosevelt, Franklin D., 64, 100-1 

Rothstein, Richard and Vivian, 87 

Ruoti, Jim, 109 

Russell, Bill, 203 

Russell, Cecil, 82, 191 

Russia (U.S.S.R.), 81,84, 158 

Rust, Edward B., 211 

Ruthenberg, Donald, 52 

Ryan, John M., 221 

Rylander, Elmer, 80 

St. John, Thomas, 30, 128-29, 224 

Saito, Kenneth, 87 

Salowitz, Stew, 185 

Salvation Army, 151 

Sanders Salak, Phylis, 49-50, 134, 227, 


San Diego Padres, 201 

Sands, Rich, 161 

San Francisco 49ers, 206 

Schmittler, Art, 27, 227 

Schultz, William E., 209, 222 

Scott, Sir Walter, 13 

Scrimshire, Scott, 106 

Seattle Supersonics, 202 

Shaw, William E., 212 

Sikma, Jack, 201-4 

Sleeter, Eldred, 151 

Slick, David, 156 

Sliwa, Curtis, 66 

Smeal, Eleanor, 67 

About the Authors 253 


! LUN °^SoMlNGTON,lL 61702 

About the Authors 

Chris Fusco ('94), a clean's list English major and political science minor 
from Oak Lawn, Illinois, has taken over as Argus assistant editor after working 
for two years as sports editor. A former intern at The Pantagraph (Bloomington- 
Normal's daily newspaper) and The Reporter (a suburban Chicago weekly), 
Fusco's free lance articles have appeared in the Illinois Wesleyan University 
Magazine and Bloomington's Business to Business Magazine. He also has inter- 
viewed Baseball Hall of Fame broadcaster Jack Brickhouse and local celebrity 
Don Calhoun, who hit the 71 -foot "million dollar shot" at a 1993 Chicago Bulls' 
game. He aspires to a career in journalism, but not before completing his fourth 
season on the Illinois Wesleyan tennis team. He was named to the College 
Conference of Illinois and Wisconsin's all-academic team last season. 

Jennifer Barrell ('94), a dean's list English/political science double major 
from Carol Stream, Illinois, is serving her second term as Argus editor-in-chief. 
A staff writer since her freshman year, Barrell' s previous editorial board posi- 
tions include features editor (1991-92) and managing editor (1992). Her most 
memorable journalistic moments came when she interviewed Hillary Rodham 
Clinton, during the 1992 presidential campaign, and was one of three editorial 
board members to win a first-place award for front-page lay-out from the Illinois 
College Press Association in 1992. When Barrell can escape from the Argus 
office, she serves as president of Gamma Upsilon (IWU's media fraternity), a 
member of the Ambassador Club and the Midwest Model United Nations. 
Barrell aspires to a career as either a college professor or lawyer.